Defining Family
by kalina16
Summary: With the loss of one of his most valuable treasures, the Collector calls the only known experts on containing Infinity Stones-the Guardians of the Galaxy. However, what seems to be a simple job quickly turns complicated as the Guardians find themselves in a race against not only Thanos, but the mysterious Spartax Empire for the Infinity Stone. Multi-chapter fic, Peter/Gamora.
1. Prologue

**So this requires explanation. To begin with, this story is going to be multi-chaptered, and more than likely AU. While I am aware of James Gunn's statement that Peter's father is not who he is in the comics, and that the Marvel Cinematic Universe's Guardians of the Galaxy will be straying from that plotline, I'm just…going to ignore that. So consider this AU, I guess?**

**Also, while I will be drawing a lot from the comics, I will also be writing in MCU verse, so most of the characters will be open to re-interpretation. Keep in mind this is only my humble fanfiction, so it's a far cry from the work of all the amazing writers (and researchers) they have at Marvel!**

**And lastly, this is technically a continuation of my other Peter/Gamora fics, so while it won't draw too much from those and will include the entire team (and a bunch of other people), I will be including the Peter/Gamora relationship I wrote about there, so you may want to read those first.**

**Once again, I do not own Guardians of the Galaxy and am writing simply for fun!**

**Enjoy!**

**EDIT-So apparently the color of the Infinity Stones and their corresponding names also differ between the comics and MCU. (C'mon, Marvel, that's just confusing). So that would make the Aether the Reality Stone and the orb the Power Stone? At least that's what I've found online- correct me if I'm wrong, my knowledge of the Marvel universe is depressingly weak (I have a feeling this won't be the first edit I have to make). Anyways, thanks to a guest for pointing that out! **

* * *

_"We'll always have that in common, Peter Quill. Our fathers will always be up to something."_

_-Gamora, from Guardians of the Galaxy: Tomorrow's Avengers (2013)_

* * *

Prologue

The galaxy, as its many inhabitants knew far too well, did not exist in fairness. Be they good or evil, the weak lived in constant fear of the strong, and those who dared to rise against this order of being were dealt with in turn. It was a constant cycle, a never-ending battle as the galaxy's inhabitants, no matter what the realm, struggled for power and recognition amidst their own simple lives. But no one being held the galaxy in his grasp-the power that would take was incomprehensible, impossible.

As were the Infinity Stones, incomprehensible and impossible.

Yet they existed, each beautiful, intoxicatingly powerful stone, six brilliant colors of implausible strength. They were the most treasured items to exist in the galaxy, the most powerful of weapons, for in them lay the power to dominate entire civilizations, to exterminate thousands with the blink of an eye.

The power to rule the universe itself.

So, as one could imagine, it would prove rather distressing if the possessor of one of these marvels happened to misplace it.

Exceptionally distressing.

Especially when said item had been entrusted to the possessor by a race as powerful as the Asgardians.

So yes, the Collector, as he preferred to be called, was in a considerable amount of distress as he surveyed his storage room, small hologram held lightly in his hands. His collection was all but in shambles, the blast of that marvelous, powerful purple stone having wrecked havoc throughout the building. Most of his living specimens had fled, as was expected, but not as agitating as it could have been-the bulk of his worth lay in the stationary objects, his priceless and powerful treasures, which, while slightly blackened, remained mostly unharmed.

But all this paled in comparison to the absence of the Asgardian container that had resided in his most secured safe. In all truth, it was not even supposed to have been here-it should have been kept safe among his most valuable possessions, hidden in his private collection, far from the criminal-ridden streets of Knowhere. But delay after delay had risen up and he had forestalled, choosing instead to wait for Thanos' daughter to bring him the rumored Space Gem; a grievous mistake on his part. The mad titan's daughter had turned out as soft as all the other self-proclaimed do-gooders rising up in the galaxy.

But while these self-proclaimed do-gooders could prove endlessly aggravating, they also had their uses. One he was in dire need of now.

For whom better to find his stolen Infinity Gem than the very people who had already successfully secured another?

"Jorin," he called. The young boy, a street dweller the Collector had been forced to hire after Carina's demise, trotted up to him warily.

"Um, sir?"

"Give the Nova Corps of Xandar a call," he said, twirling the hologram of the swirling red Aether absently. "Tell them I wish to speak with their 'Guardians of the Galaxy'."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the Collector, his request had been heard by more than his newly hired servant. Slinking quietly away from a blown-out entrance, the lone hooded figure turned away, striding quickly down the crowded streets of Knowhere.

Ducking into an abandoned building, the figure glanced around, shutting the door firmly behind. A gloved hand reached to pull at the hem of the figure's hood, revealing the young, feminine face of a dark- skinned humanoid, her curly brown locks cascading down her shoulders. Reaching into her cloak, the woman pulled a silver communicator from her white bodysuit.

With a tiny click the communicator flickered to life, the blue light of the tiny, holographic figure illuminating the building and reflecting off the woman's dark eyes.

"Captain?" The uniformed man in the hologram asked, his tone imposing.

"My king," the woman replied, her voice respectful. "I have done as you commanded. You were correct-the Collector has indeed lost one of his Infinity Gems."

"Well done, Captain. This is a most interesting turn of events," the man said, stroking his bearded chin. "This may work in our favor."

"That is not all, my king," the woman added. "The Collector is sending his own people to find the Gem-he calls them the 'Guardians of the Galaxy'."

"Ah, yes. I believe I have heard of them," the man said, his tone thoughtful. "I heard they were responsible for the defeat of Ronan, as well as the containment of the Power Stone. Interesting circumstances indeed."

The woman waited in silence, watching the man.

"If the Reality Stone has indeed been stolen, it is imperative that we find it as quickly as possible," the man said firmly. "If the Collector believes that these 'Guardians' are his best chance of retrieving it, then it is likely that they are our best hope."

"My king?"

"I want you to follow them," the man said. "Take what men you need but take care to avoid detection. Let them lead you to the Reality Stone, then seize it when the time is right."

"As you command, my king," the woman said, bowing her head.

"And take heed, Captain," the man said gravely, meeting her eyes. "The Reality Stone must be found quickly. If Thanos discovers it…" he shook his head. "The consequences will be too drastic to imagine."

"Yes, my king." The woman said confidently. "I will not fail you."

"I expect nothing less from you, Captain," the man replied. And with that the woman switched off the communicator, the man flickering from existence as the abandoned building was cast back into darkness. Pulling her hood back up, the woman swept out into the streets, disappearing into the crowds of people.


	2. Chapter 1

**So this is probably going to be a record in updating times for me, but I'll be trying to get the other chapters up this fast. I have a feeling it's going to be slow updating, though :( **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Nights on Kallu were, as always, dark and bitterly cold, the howling winds sweeping the snowfall into a raging blizzard, turning the world into a swirling expanse of white. While not quite the icy, barren wasteland of the Jotunheim, the climate of Kallu was decidedly inhospitable, its freezing temperatures and raging blizzards making for difficult navigation, much less comfortable living. Flying in to the planet from above, one would be hard-pressed to spot even the smallest signs of life amidst the snow.

Which is why, of course, it made such a convenient base for those evading the law. Hidden by the heavy snows and protected by the hostile temperatures, criminal activity could be easily conducted without much fear of discovery, much less arrest. In this case, the hulking complex of Nereen, wanted criminal and dealer in the galaxy's most proficient slave trade.

It was unsavory work, as any slave dealing was, but it paid well. At least that was the reasoning of the midnight shift guard's mind. It wasn't as if he enjoyed the enslavement and sale of living beings-but the amount of money Nereen's operations made was simply too much to pass up. He only wished the criminal had picked a warmer climate to house his main operations base in. At least it discouraged any attempts of escape from the hundreds imprisoned inside.

A violent shivering racked the guard as the wind increased, blowing snow and sleet into his face and obscuring his vision. He curled away from the storm, rubbing at his eyes as they watered from the stinging cold.

"Damn this storm," he muttered harshly, rubbing his hands together to bring the feeling back into them. "Can't see a blasted thing."

"Well, that's awfully convenient for me, huh," a muffled voice came from behind him. The guard let out a startled cry of surprise, raising his gun and whirling to face the intruder. His grip on the weapon quickly loosened and his eyes went wide with fear as he saw the figure before him.

It was not the build of the intruder that was terrifying-it looked to be a humanoid male of medium build, clad entirely in black and white snow gear-but the demonic red eyes that glowed brightly in the storm, fixed on the guard.

"Who-what-who are you!" the guard demanded in a trembling voice, raising his gun as he stumbled back. The figure didn't reply, moving closer towards him. The guard pointed his gun directly at the figure's mask, grip shaking. "Answer me now! I'll shoot!"

"Aw, don't be rude," the figure spoke, his voice decidedly male behind the muffling of the mask, stance casual.

"Don't move!" the guard yelled, the order ruined by the fear in his voice. "Put your hands in the air-"

The guard was abruptly cut off as the intruder charged forward, ducking beneath his weapon and grabbing his arm, twisting the weapon away as he slammed the guard in the gut with his knee. The guard's breath escaped with a _whoosh _as he collapsed to the ground, the intruder casually tossing the gun over the wall. He then flicked open a small device the guard quickly recognized as a magnetizer, and with a tiny hum of electricity the guard was plastered to the ground by the metal on his uniform.

The intruder shook his head, grabbing the guard's communication unit and sauntering his way towards the compound.

"And to answer your question-I'm Star-lord. But considering where you work, _you_ probably haven't heard of me." The guard could have sworn the intruder was smirking behind his mask. "But you'll probably remember me in the morning." The guard stared at him in shock for one second before a flash went off, a stab of pain erupting in the back of his head; then blackness took his vision.

* * *

"Where the _hell_ is that moron," Rocket hissed to Gamora from where they were crouched behind a snow mound, overlooking the entrance of one of the compound's loading bays, shivering in the biting wind. "He should have opened the door _hours_ ago."

"It's been twenty minutes, Rocket," Gamora whispered back as she tugged the hood of her jacket further over her head, pulling her snow mask securely back over her nose. "Give him time."

"I've given him plenty 'a time," the raccoon muttered darkly, adjusting his own snow gear. "I just don't wanna be an icicle by the time he finally gets his ass moving and opens the door."

"I am Groot," Groot said admonishingly from where he was crouched behind them, the only one of the three of them not clad head to toe in heavy snow gear.

"Yeah, yeah, I know he's gotta make sure Drax is through on the west side, but still," Rocket grumbled. "Shoulda just sent me in, I'd have this down in seconds."

"We've been over this, Rocket," Gamora sighed. "Peter opens the blast doors from the east operating panel, Drax draws the security's attention, and you and I sneak-"

"I am Groot!"

"I'm sorry-you and I and _Groot_ get in the control room, locate the slaves and disable the communication jammer. We need you _here_."

"Alright, alright, I got it the first fifty times," Rocket muttered. "He's just taking too long."

Gamora sighed. Rocket had been on edge ever since they had accepted this mission-and given the sensitive nature of the whole enslavement and imprisonment thing, she could understand why. The fact that Nereen was imprisoning and selling people against their will had them all on edge. It was why they had taken this assignment.

But Peter was their leader, and they needed to have faith in him in order to pull this off. The closer to the plan they all stuck, the smoother and quicker the operation would go. Peter just needed more time. He was probably taking his time to sneak through the complex, swaggering all the way with his music. He would have the doors open in a minute.

"_He better,_" she thought, tapping her knife anxiously. She refused to think of any other reason he might be taking so long.

She shook her head, clearing the fear from her mind. It was ridiculous that she was this on edge-she couldn't afford to be so concerned about Peter during battle. This was why she had avoided attachments for so long-they ended up in crippling anxiety as you waited for your idiot lover to open the stupid doors.

Gamora was about to lose her mind when the high-pitched screeching of the alarm caused them all to nearly jump out of their skins.

"That should be Drax," Gamora said, heart racing. "So Peter should be opening the door any min-"

As if on cue the door to the loading bay began to rise, creaking slowly as it moved up, bright lights spilling out onto the snow.

"Thank the stars," Gamora muttered in relief.

"Yeah Quill!" Rocket crowed as he vaulted the snow mound. "Let's bust this place up!" Groot hummed in agreement as he and Gamora followed, sprinting across the snowy grounds to the door.

"Okay," Gamora said as they ducked into the warm air, pulling her face mask off. "Groot, you find Peter and take care of whatever security Drax hasn't wiped out." Groot nodded at her, heading towards the eastern passage. "And meet up with us in the north control hangar as soon as possible!" She called as he left. She turned to Rocket. "Ready?"

"Oh yeah," the raccoon replied, cocking his gun. "First priorities' gettin' the communication jammer offline," he told her as they sprinted down the halls. "Once we got that done we can get Quill and Drax online and-shit!"

Gamora grabbed Rocket and heaved the both of them behind a corner as blaster fire erupted around them. Apparently a few guards hadn't responded the Peter and Drax's attack. Four quick blasts took care of them.

"And then we gotta signal the Nova Corps," Rocket continued as they dashed by the fallen guards. "And then find the slaves and bust them out."

"And Nereen," Gamora added. "We need to take care of Nereen."

"Oh, we'll take care of him alright," Rocket growled. "Take care to split his skull open." Gamora sighed.

"As much as we want him dead, Rocket, we need him alive. We cannot get information out of a dead man."

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Rocket muttered as they reached the north hangar. "But he's a damn scumbag who'd deserve worse."

"Agreed," Gamora said. "Which is why we need to shut him down." She halted at the entrance of the hangar, peering around the wall. "Damn," she muttered, head jerking back behind the wall. "The guards are still there."

"So?" Rocket whispered, taking a look. "There's only 'bout fifteen of them. We can take twice that size."

"Yes, but we need to be careful about this-"

"HRUAGGHHHH!" Gamora and Rocket jumped as a large figure crashed through the other hangar entrance, yelling fiercely and waving his knife at the alarmed guards.

"Finger across neck, dishonorable slavers!"

"Or we can just charge in," Gamora snapped as she yanked her knife out, running towards Drax as he battled the guards.

"Best plan I've heard all day!" Rocket said as he joined her, firing at the guards as they scrambled for cover. Gamora swiped her knife into the first pale-skinned guard, kicking him in the chest as she whirled to slam the hilt of her knife into the guard's face behind her. White-hot streaks of blaster fire hissed just above her head she dropped to the ground, sweeping a guard's legs out and knocking him senseless.

Nearby, Drax was tearing eagerly into the guards, tossing them across the hangar as he landed hit after powerful hit. Rocket darted back and forth, gun flashing as he shot his opponents down.

"Bam, you're dead! Bam, you're dead!" Gamora rolled her eyes at Rocket's laughing taunts as she hit the last of her attackers in the neck, sending him crumpling to the ground.

"Nice timing, Drax," Rocket said as he put away his blaster, scurrying over the fallen guards to the security panel.

"My apologies for the delay," Drax replied, inspecting his knife as he joined them by the panel. "Their forces were more competent than I had predicted."

"No matter," Gamora said, watching Rocket as his hands flew across the panel, smashing through security programs and pulling up blue holograms. "You achieved your purpose."

"And where are our other friends?"

"Hopefully about to be online in a sec," Rocket muttered, typing at the panel furiously. "This technology is ancient-gotcha! Okay, there'll be the slaves," he said, gesturing to a blinking light on the hologram of the complex. "That should be…near the south entrance, I think?" he frowned. "Around there."

"Sounds correct," Gamora said. "Can you locate Nereen?"

"Bastard should be smack in the central security tower," Rocket growled. "Looks like he's got himself holed up with all his underlings, the coward."

"Let us end him, then!" Drax said, raising his knife.

"Yeah, yeah, hold up a minute, just lemme get Quill and Groot online-"

"You may want to pull up the security feeds as well," Gamora cut in.

"I said, _hold on_, this is tricky-"

"Hey! Get away from there!"

"Aw, shit-" Rocket jumped back from the panel as a security team rushed in from the furthermost door. Gamora and Drax raised their weapons defensively, backing up to Rocket.

"Security feeds, and this could have been avoided," Gamora hissed.

"Oh, _shut it_, you wanna try and do six hundred things at once with that complicated a system be my guest-"

"Stop talking!" a guard, most likely the leader, yelled, raising his gun. "Put down your weapons!"

"Should we attack?" Drax muttered.

"No," Gamora said, frustrated, as another security team rushed through the door. "We would be outmatched."

"Speak for yourself," Drax scoffed. Gamora glared.

"Weapons down! Now!" the guard yelled, aiming his gun at them as the other guards did the same.

"Damn it," Rocket muttered, lowering his weapon. "This is gonna change up the plan a bit."

"We can't afford this delay," Gamora hissed, dropping her knife as she stepped away. "What about Peter and Groot?"

"On your knees, scum! And hands behind your heads!" The lead guard yelled, waving his gun at him. Gamora met Rocket's eyes, slowly sinking to the ground. She was just putting her hands behind her head when a burst of music blasted across the room.

"_OOGA CHAKA, OOGA OOGA OOGA CHAKA-_" The too-familiar sounds of Blue Swede echoed through the hanger, and Gamora felt a huge grin split her face. The guards whirled around wildly in confusion.

"What the hell? What is this?!"

"This is Blue Swede, fool," she said, lowering her hands as Drax and Rocket did the same.

"And you are about to get your asses handed to you," Rocket chimed in. With unfailing timing the wall behind the guards exploded, bits of concrete flying across the room as a massive tank plowed through. Shrieks of panic echoed through the room as the guards dove for cover. Gamora ducked her head as Drax darted in front of her and Rocket, sheltering them from the blast as the east hangar wall was entirely destroyed.

It took several minutes for the debris to stop falling, and even then the hangar was clouded with powdery white dust. Gamora rose slowly, blinking the dust out of her eyes as Drax rubbed his arm, a bit bruised but otherwise unharmed.

The tank had ground to a shuddering halt, and there was a metallic clank as the top was lifted.

"You guys alive?" Peter called from on top of the tank, hood pushed back and trademark mask just disappearing behind his ear, sporting the biggest grin Gamora had ever seen.

"You idiot!" Rocket yelled. "You almost crushed us!"

"Groot's idea!" Peter said cheerfully, throwing a thumb back at Groot as he joined Peter on top of the tank.

"I am Groot!" He protested indignantly, but looking entirely too happy.

"Morons," Gamora sighed as she ran a hand through her hair, releasing a puff of dust from where it had clung to her dark locks.

"That was a most impressive entrance!" Drax said enthusiastically to the pair as they clambered down from the tank. "Poorly thought through, but effective!"

"Yeahhhhh," Peter trailed off, staring at the groaning guards beneath the rubble and the complete wreckage of the hangar. "I maaaaybe could have gone less destructive there..." Gamora shook her head.

"Hopeless," she muttered.

"Aw, whatever," Rocket said. "What matters is we got ourselves a tank!" The raccoon climbed nimbly up the side of the tank, darting inside. With a low roar the tank powered to life again as Rocket laughed wickedly.

"Oh stars," Peter said faintly. "This may have been a bad idea, actually."

"It's alright," Gamora said, patting him on the back. "It will be fun to watch him obliterate this place."

"You're okay, right?" Peter asked her in a low but concerned voice as they headed towards the tank.

"I am perfectly fine," she replied, a small smile gracing her face at his obvious concern. "My best friend tried to bring a wall down on my head, but other than that, sure."

"That's _boyfriend_ to you," he said cheerily, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as she wrinkled her nose at the name. "And I am sorry-I didn't-well, I didn't really think it through, I guess-I just saw you guys getting surrounded on the security cameras and kinda just-"

"Burst through the wall?" she said with a smirk as she hoisted herself up the tank.

"Uh, yeah," Peter said a bit sheepishly, bracing his hands on the rails as he pulled himself up besides her. "But hey-it worked?"

"It certainly did," she said as she clambered to the top. "And it is fine. Though I am incredibly curious to know how, exactly, you got a _tank_."

"I too, am interested in knowing how you acquired such useful weaponry," Drax added as he pulled himself up next to Peter, turning back to reach a hand down to Groot. Peter stretched his hand down besides Drax's and they heaved Groot up next to them.

"Easy, really," Peter said. "After you guys sent Groot to bail me out I noticed they'd left the weapons hanger unguarded." He shook his head. "Idiots. But anyways, after Groot took care of the security team it was a piece of cake, gettin' one running and smashing it through the wall. That and hacking into the speakers."

"I do not understand. What does cake have to do with the theft of this vehicle?" Drax inquired as the four dropped into the tank next to Rocket.

"It's a metaphor, genius," Rocket muttered as his fingers flew across the tank's controls.

"He means it was very simple," Gamora said, taking pity on Drax. "Though why Terrans prefer to compare simplicity to desserts is beyond me."

"Don't hate on Terran culture," Peter called from where he was inspecting the tank's firing controls.

"It is your own fault for being so confusing," Drax replied.

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed indignantly.

"I am Groot," the Flora colossus said firmly from where he stood besides Rocket.

"There, see? Groot's on my side," Peter said smugly.

"Actually, he was agreeing with Drax and your girlfriend."

"Aw, c'mon, Groot!"

"I am Groot!"

"Don't apologize to him! He's just sore over his Terra," Rocket growled as he shoved the tank's controls, the other four occupants stumbling back as it jerked forward. "Gotcha!"

The tank surged forward, making a wide turn around the hangar as Rocket grinned. Once the tank was aiming towards the middle of the complex, he shoved the controls forward again, the tank picking up speed. Shots ricocheted off the side of the tank as a group of guards rushed through the destroyed wall, aiming at the rogue tank.

"Take care a' that, will ya, Quill?" Rocket growled, eyes glued forward.

"My pleasure," Peter smirked, having finally figured out the controls, as he swiveled the turret around to face the guards. With a whoop of adrenaline he fired at the guards.

"Eat that!" he yelled as the guards screamed and dove for cover.

"You are ridiculous," Gamora muttered, watching the carnage.

"No to impose, but am I to understand that your plan is to drive this vehicle through the wall?" Drax asked Rocket, who Gamora noticed had not slowed the tank in the slightest.

"Through this wall and the next, until we get to that bastard," Rocket replied, grinning manically.

"I am Groot!" Groot's concerned tone rang through the tank as they rushed towards the wall.

"Oh, stars," Gamora muttered as she tightly grabbed the side of the tank. Peter threw him an incredulous look.

"Rocket, that actually may not be the best idea-"

"You did it once, we're doin' it now!" Rocket cut him off. "Better grab somethin' if you don't wanna go flying!" Peter turned pale and grabbed a rail, Drax doing the same. Groot merely shook his head and wrapped his branches securely around the sides.

"Impact in three, two-" Peter wrapped an arm around Gamora, giving her a faint smile at her glare.

"Seatbelt," he said, just as Rocket gave a cry of "_One!_"

The tank slammed into the wall, the jolt shuddering through the tank as Gamora squeezed at the railing, Peter's grip around her waist tightening as he stumbled back. The tank tore through the masonry with ease and continued its charge towards the next wall, quickly regaining its lost speed.

"One down, two to go!" Rocket yelled as he thrust the tank forwards. It smashed through the next wall and they all stumbled back again, Gamora's grip white-knuckled now. She had no idea how Rocket was still at the controls. Through the falling debris they caught sight of the flashing alarms, wailing through the base.

"Last one!" Rocket cried with excitement, shoving the speed as high as he could. Groot gave a small moan as they rushed forward.

"GAHHHHHHHH!" the five yelled in adrenaline laced-panic (Rocket with joy) as the tank plowed through the final wall, sliding across the floor as it wiped out the security guards and their guns, finally slamming into the security tower with an almighty crash.

"Ughhhh," Peter moaned from where he'd landed on the floor by Gamora. "Let's _not_ do that again."

"That was most enjoyable!" Drax laughed, pulling a traumatized Groot off the floor.

"There's one word for it," Peter muttered, rubbing his head. "Everyone okay?" he asked, surveying the others.

"I am alive, surprisingly," Gamora said darkly, pushing her hair out of her face.

"Of course we're fine, Quill, that was nothin'," Rocket said snidely as he shoved open the top of the tank. "Shoulda been there when I rammed your old ship into Ronan's."

"Don't remind me," Peter groaned, following Gamora out of the tank. The sight was impressive-the security tower had all but collapsed, the guards lying half-buried under the rubble, and behind them stood three giant holes where the complex's walls had been, bits of stone and rubble still falling.

From inside the security tower, a grey-skinned alien picked his way out of the wreckage dizzily, expensive clothes torn and covered in dust.

"Nereen," Peter said, smirking as he raised his blaster, Drax, Gamora, and Rocket raising their weapons from behind him. Groot growled. "Hi! We're the Guardians of the Galaxy. We'd like to have a word with you about your business."


	3. Chapter 2

**Not that satisfied with this chapter, but it's mostly filler, so that may have something to do with it. Also, the amount of research this thing is taking is ridiculous. There is nothing more frustrating than trying to look up Marvel planets and alien races and actually finding something helpful. So I'm sorry for any inaccuracies! **

**Also, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorite, you guys are the best!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Well, it's not the neatest job, but I suppose congratulations are in order." The gaping Nova Corps official said faintly, staring at the wrecked complex. The once-hidden complex was now surrounded by the landing Nova Corps ships, the Xandarian soldiers hauling out guard after guard through the falling snow, handcuffing them and escorting them to a ship where they would be taken, along with their master, to the Kyln.

Gamora rolled her eyes as Peter sighed, Rocket snorting.

"Well I didn't see you guys doin' much," he shot. "The point is, Nereen is in custody and his operation is pretty much screwed over."

"And the slaves are being safely freed now," Gamora added.

"What more do you want?" Peter finished.

"Damage control?" Rhomann Dey said, humor in his tone, as he approached them.

"Dey!" Peter greeted him. "Finally, someone with some sense!"

"That's debatable," Rocket muttered to Drax.

"How are you and your family, Rhomann Dey?" Gamora asked politely, cutting over Rocket.

"Wonderful, thank you," the Nova Corps official said, smiling. "My daughter's been asking if she can see you all again. Especially you, Rocket-she's been demanding you visit her again."

"Hmph," Rocket said, but his expression softened.

"I am Groot?" Groot asked hesitantly.

"And you too, of course," Dey smiled. "All of you, actually, now that you're famous."

"Psh, I was famous long before this shindig," Peter declared.

"I'm sure you were, Star-Prince," Gamora said snidely.

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed as Rhomann Dey laughed. "One time," Peter muttered. "One time."

"Well, plenty of people know your name now," Dey said. "That's actually part of the reason I'm here."

"What, you're not here to congratulate us on our spectacular act of goodwill?" Peter said, looking wounded.

"That we should be getting paid for soon," Rocket muttered. Peter stepped on his foot.

"Actually, no, but nice job on that," Dey said, surveying the bunker. "What did you do to the walls?"

"Tank."

"Psycho."

"Blue Swede." Rocket, Gamora, and Peter all said respectively.

"We rammed their own weaponry through their defenses," Drax said, self-satisfied. "It was most enjoyable."

"I am Groot," Groot's tone suggested otherwise.

"Ah," Dey said, looking as if he would rather not know. "Well, at any rate, you'll be happy to hear that we're helping the slaves return to their homes and families now."

"Thanks," Peter said as the other Guardians hummed in agreement.

"You said you were here for another reason, though?" Gamora questioned.

"Yes," Dey said, frowning. "We received a call last night from an individual who calls himself the Collector-are you familiar with him?" Peter and Rocket groaned. Gamora looked as if she was torn between anger and annoyance.

"What?" Drax said, confused. "I do not recall meeting this Collector."

"That's because you we're too busy placing a call to Ronan," Rocket muttered, tone suggesting he was far from over the incident.

"I made amends for that," Drax defended.

"By nearly killing us, fool-"

"Anyways," Peter interrupted hurriedly. "What does he have to do with us?"

"He wants to talk to you," Dey said. "He asked if you all could meet him on Knowhere-and I quote 'for a job worth as much what I would have paid for the orb'." Gamora's eyes went wide, Peter and Rocket gaping.

"Well I'm interested," Rocket said.

"Wait-so he wants to hire us? What for?" Peter asked.

"Considering the money he is offering, something decidedly dangerous," Gamora said darkly.

"We have no idea," Dey said apologetically. "That's all he said. He refused to answer any other questions, cut us right off."

"That sounds right," Rocket muttered.

"Does he honestly believe we are willing to aid him, after the Infinity Stone?" Gamora scoffed, a frown creasing her brow. Groot hummed in agreement.

"Are you serious?" Rocket asked her, gaping. "You hear what he's offerin'?"

"Yes, much as I did the first time," Gamora hissed. "When we were all nearly killed for our trouble."

"Well this ain't the first time!" Rocket shot back. "It's not like we're wanted fugitives with a mass murderer on our tail!"

"The raccoon is right," Drax said over Rocket's half-hearted "Hey!". "I fail to see how this is any more concerning than a normal mission."

"Because normal missions are not commissioned to us by an untrustworthy, greedy, hoarder!" Gamora said earnestly.

"To be fair, most people we have worked with in our lives are much the same, including ourselves," Drax countered, ignoring the sputters from his teammates.

"Besides, you don't even know what he wants us to do yet!" Rocket said, glaring at Gamora.

"I do not have to!" she hissed. "I need only know that he is untrustworthy, and that anything he wishes us to do will prove double-edged!"

Rhomann Dey's head swung back and forth as he watched the two's argument, looking nervous.

"You don't have to answer him," he said hesitantly. "But I have the meeting coordinates, if you want them-"

"Yes!" Rocket barked just as Gamora snapped a "No!"

"I am Groot," Groot's firm tone cut across the two.

"No," Rocket barked back. "We are not compromising here, she's just being a stubborn moron-"

"Watch your tongue, you self-conceited fool-"

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" Peter's concerned voice cut over them both, Rhomann Dey looking relieved at the intervention.

""I notice you have not stated your opinion yet," Drax said, turning to Peter. "As our leader-"

"Unofficial leader," Rocket muttered.

"But leader nonetheless," Drax continued firmly. "It is your responsibility to resolve this."

"Uhhhhh…" Peter said, resembling a deer in headlights. The rest of the team looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah, resolve this, leader," Rocket said.

"Peter," Gamora urged.

"Well," Peter rubbed his forehead, looking torn. "Gamora's got a good point, what with the Collector not being the best contractor there is-" Rocket groaned, Gamora looking smug. "But," he continued. "It is only one meeting, and we have dealt with worse, to be fair-" he shot Gamora an apologetic look. "So I think we should-I'm gonna say we see what he wants."

"Peter!" Gamora exclaimed angrily, Rocket whooping.

"Hear me out!" Peter said, throwing his hands up in defense. "We don't have to actually agree to him yet! It's just one meeting-we can decide if it's worth the trouble after!"

Gamora glared at him, folding her arms, as Rocket shrugged, muttering a "Fine, fine." Drax looked reasonably satisfied, and Groot simply nodded. Peter decided that Groot was his favorite for the time being.

"One meeting," he said. "That's all we're committing to." He turned to Rhomann Dey. "You got the coordinates?"

* * *

While there were plenty of planets most sane people steered clear of, there were few places in the galaxy that were all-together feared and avoided by even the toughest of looters. One of these such places was the dead, darkened realm of the Mad Titan, Thanos, and the fear it invoked across the galaxy was well-deserved. Few who dared to venture into the realm of Thanos ever made it out alive, much less unharmed. Even then, death was not the worst of their fears-for Thanos to merely kill his enemies was considered a great mercy, for the cruelty that the Titan was capable of was unspeakable.

That being known, Thanos' realm was given wide berth by all-save those who either dared to seek his help (as of late, the trickster Loki and the madman Ronan-both had met unsavory ends) or those who answered his rarely given summons. And as refusing his summons was tantamount to declaring one's wish for death, those summons were always met.

Which is why R'narin, former general of the Badoon forces, found himself and a contingent of his men in the dead realm. He had little fear for Thanos, per say, other than was healthy-but then again, he had little fear for anything, beyond what some had called sane. The former general, member of the reptilian Badoon species, had once been greatly renowned by his people for his absence of fear-however, one too many reckless and failed attacks against the rival Spartax Empire had led to his decline in popularity. While the hatred between the two races ran strong, there existed a fragile peace for now, held loosely together by endless treaties and compromises. R'narin, with his deep-set hatred for the Spartax and unsatiable bloodlust, had all but destroyed the peace himself. His actions had led to his disgrace and banishment from the Badoon forces, but the general held little regret for them-as did a number of his men, as they had followed him into his banishment.

A disgraced general, high on hatred and ruthless with his desire for power and conquer-R'narin quite perfectly fit the bill of Thanos' next subordinate.

"I am honored to have received your summons, Thanos, though I do wonder what one so powerful as you would have need of me for," the Badoon general addressed the Titan, surveying the dead world with passive interest.

"Nothing on the scale of the destruction of a world, for now," the Titan replied, back turned to the general. "I simply need you and your men to retrieve something for me, something of value."

R'narin snorted in disbelief. "So you wish me to be your errand runner? A simple thief, retrieving your trifling fancies for you?"

"Watch your tongue, boy," the Titan said harshly, his back still turned. "What I am asking you to retrieve is far more than a trifling fancy."

"Then enlighten me, Titan, and face me."

Thanos drummed his fingers on his throne, the faint prickling of annoyance rising in him. The mortals of this universe were remarkably irritating, and all the same- fools that believed they possessed the right to stand in equality to him. He felt a spark of anger towards the dead Ronan-things had been far simpler when he had the Other to deal with the mortals.

But he required R'narin's services, irritating as the Badoon general may be, so he rotated the throne slowly, expression devoid of any emotion as he faced R'narin.

"Ignorant as you are of the galaxy's happenings, I am sure you heard of the Asgardian crisis with the Dark Elves not long ago," Thanos droned. R'narin bristled at the insult, but recognition sparked in his eyes.

"The discovery of the Aether by a mortal, and the near-destruction of Asgard, yes," he replied.

"Then you understand the value of the Aether," Thanos said. "And the impact it could have."

"A simple weapon, one used by those without the power to conquer themselves," R'narin scoffed. "I fail to see why one such as you would have need of it."

"A simple weapon," Thanos repeated, half-hissing. "One that would aid in the destruction of the Spartax race, if you so wished."

R'narin's eyes narrowed. "I know what you promised Ronan. I know how that deal ended for him."

"Ronan was a fool," Thanos said. "He sought to take matters into his own hands, to use the stone himself. I am not offering you a stone. I am offering you an army."

That seemed to take R'narin's attention.

"What kind of army?" he asked, curious.

"The Chitauri, though having suffered a defeat on earth, still answer to my command," Thanos said. "Their forces have nearly recovered. The Aether has been stolen from the individual known as the Collector. If you bring me the Aether, I will give that command to you."

"The Chitauri," R'narin echoed, eyes widening. "In my command. With them it will only be too easy to wipe out the Spartoi."

"So we have an understanding," Thanos said. "Bring me the Aether, and I will give you your army."

R'narin stroked his chin, mulling it over. "We have an agreement," he finally said.

"Then you will leave now. The one who stole the Aether has fled to Shi'ar galaxy. Find him and deal with him as you see fit. But bring me the Aether. And _do not_ touch it."

"As you wish," R'narin said. "You will have your Aether shortly, and I will have my army."

"So you will," Thanos said. "And take care to not fail me. The consequences, as I am sure you know, will be severe."

"You need not worry," R'narin scoffed. "It will be only too easy."

"Do not grow arrogant, boy," The Titan warned. "And do not think you are the only one searching for the Aether. The Spartoi will have their say, I assume," R'narin hissed at the mention of the race's intereference. "And the pathetic band of so-called Guardians will be searching as well."

"Ah yes, I've heard of them," R'narin said, smirking. "Shall I say hello to your daughter for you?"

"The only thing I would have you do to her is bring her to me in chains," Thanos hissed, glaring at him. "She will pay for her treason in due time."

"Very well," R'narin said lightly. "Then I will bring you both the Aether and your daughter. But if I am to be racing Spartax, I will require adequate forces to deal with their interference."

"As I said, the Chitauri have recovered," Thanos said. "I will give you command of enough of them to deal with any Spartax interference. But until I possess the Aether, the entirety of the army remains in my command."

"You are too generous," R'narin said, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Give me a week. You will have your Aether." He bowed to Thanos and turned, striding away from the throne.

He turned as he reached the edge of the stairs.

"And what should I do with the others who call themselves 'Guardians'?" he asked.

"Kill them," Thanos said flatly. "In whatever way you see fit. I already have a band of self-assuming 'protectors' to deal with."

* * *

"Don't see why he had to shove all those details down our throats, we already know where this Collector is," Rocket commented to Peter as they trudged through the thick snow, the two making their way to where they had hidden the _Milano_.

"Formalities, I guess," Peter muttered. "Like I'd know."

"Eh, useless anyways," the raccoon shrugged.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with before we all kill each other."

"Well you're a fricking ray of sunshine," Rocket said, shooting Peter a look. "What's got you depressed? Someone mess up your name again?"

"No," Peter huffed, glaring at him. "It's just-this mission, I guess…well not the mission, per say, but, y'know-"

"Your girlfriend's reaction to it?'

Wha-no!" Peter stammered as Rocket raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Uh-huh. So Gamora's storming off after you agreed to get the coordinates has nothing to do with you acting butt-hurt."

"I am _not_ acting butt-hurt- wait, she _stormed_ off? Like, genuinely, pissed-off, storming?" Peter's irritated tone quickly faded to concern. Rocket resisted the urge to tear his own head off.

"Yeesh, no, moron, Gamora's not the immature one in this crazy sappy thing you got going," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "But anyone with workin' eyes can see that she's not onboard with it and that's makin' you two act like teenagers."

"We are not acting like teenagers, man!" Peter said indignantly. "We're mature adults and we're acting like it!"

"Then get your butt over there and talk to her," Rocket shot at him. "Stars know the rest of us don't wanna deal with you guys and your stupid feelings."

Peter glanced over to where Gamora was trudging through the snow ahead of them.

"Man, what if she knifes me-"

"She's your frickin' girlfriend, idiot, go talk to her!" Rocket half-yelled in exasperation, shoving Peter forwards. Apparently taking the initiative, Peter jogged towards her.

"Hey-hey, Gam! Gamora-_gah_!" He called to her, slipping across the icy snow as he ran and nearly falling flat on his face.

"Peter-_oof_," Gamora's irritated reply was cut off as Peter slid straight into her.

"Aw-dangit, I'm sorry Gamora-"

"Clumsy," she muttered at him, shoving him off her and cutting off his apologetic rambling.

"Yeah, I know, I know, I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing, it was an accident. What did you want?" she sighed, crossing her arms.

"Well, you know, I was just-just wondering if you're okay with this?" Peter asked hesitantly.

"It does not matter whether I am or not," she said, sounding weary. "You were right-it is worth at least one meeting."

"Yeah," Peter said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "Just one trip for now. It'll be fine!"

"Sure, sure," she muttered. "You received the coordinates?"

"Yup," Peter said, handing her a datapad. "Hope you like severed Celestial heads."

"Back to Knowhere, then, I suppose," Gamora sighed resignedly, but she did not appear to be angry at him.

"Hey, it could be worse," Peter said, nudging her. "Remember that terrace? How we almost kissed and you pulled a knife on me for my 'pelvic sorcery'-"

"Yes, yes, how could I forget," Gamora huffed, cutting him off. Peter smirked.

"Anyways, it'll be fine. We'll actually get that money after all."

"Remember what happened last time?" Gamora said darkly. "This is likely to be just as grave a matter. I do not wish to relive that experience," she said softly, eyes distant.

"Gamora." Peter said spinning her to face him. "It will be fine. I promise. We're better now. We know what we're doing. No calls to enemies, no selling out for money-well, besides the Collector's money." Gamora rolled her eyes. "My point is, we're a pretty good team now. We can handle this." He smiled at her. "Besides, things were getting pretty boring anyways." Gamora scoffed.

"What, smashing a tank through a wall is not exciting enough for you?"

"Multiple walls. And you know me, gotta live for the adrenaline."

"That is an incredibly unhealthy way to live."

"Says the assassin with no self-preservation?"

"Oh, you are one to talk-"

"Hey, lovebirds, let's go!" Rocket's voice interrupted them.

"They are not birds," Drax's voice questioned over Gamora's hissed "We are _not lovebirds_."

"Aw, you're just jealous, man," Peter said with a grin, leaning over to kiss Gamora on the cheek, deliberately smacking loudly.

"Peter!" Gamora shrieked, jumping away and swiping at her cheek as Peter burst out laughing. "That is revolting!"

"You guys are just weird," Rocket muttered.

"Jealous!" Peter called to him.

"Ha! Not in a thousand years, you-ah, I mean," Rocket said hastily, clearing his throat as Gamora glared at him. "Lovey relationships crap ain't my thing."

"I am not lovey," Gamora said, frowning.

Groot looked at Rocket, expression sly as he asked "I am Groot?"

"Wha-that doesn't count," Rocket said, flushing.

"Oh, do tell, Rocket," Gamora said wickedly.

"Please enlighten us with your romantic conquest," Drax said, the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corners of his mouth.

"I swear, I will blast you all into the next dimension-"

"Ooooookay, enough on the love junk!" Peter cut them all off loudly, whirling to face them as he walked backwards up the _Milano_'s ramp. "We got ourselves a meeting to get to!"

"I cannot wait," Gamora said sourly, as the others displayed equally enthusiastic reactions.

"Can't we just skip to the blowing up stuff part?" Rocket muttered.

"You are the one who wanted this," Gamora shot at him.

"Yeah, I want the money, not the meeting-"

"I feel as if we have already had this argument," Drax muttered.

"On the ship, and stop arguing, now!" Peter finally yelled despairingly at them. "We're going to Knowhere!" The four grumbled, but ceased their arguing as they headed up the ramp.

"And hey, look at the bright side," Peter said to Gamora as she came up beside him. "Last time we dealt with a fricking _Infinity Stone_. Can't get much worse than that!"

"I am Groot!" Groot said worriedly to Peter.

"Yeah," Rocket muttered. "Don't jinx it."


	4. Chapter 3

**Still stuck on filler chapters-I hate these things. At any rate, sorry updating's been so slow-I've got more fic ideas than I can handle right now :P**

**Also, in address to what's been going on in the comments-first off, thank you all for taking the time to comment, it means a lot. In address to Guest, your feedback has been very helpful, there are a lot of good points I need to work on brought up in your comments, and I'm very honored that you've found my fanfic worthy of commenting on-I say that seriously. I do find value in other people's comments, though, even if it is simply encouraging me to stop being lazy and write more.  
My primary purpose of writing here is to entertain while improving my writing-so thank you for your comments, I find value in all of them.  
I started this story, so I'm going to finish it-what I try after is a different story.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"You drool when you sleep."

"Whu-heh-huh?" Peter muttered drowsily, opening his eyes blearily as he struggled to raise his head from the warmth of his pillow.

"G'mora? Wuzzgoinon?"

"You." She said, sitting gracefully on the edge of his bed. "Drool. When you sleep."

"Wha-no I don't-" Peter reached up to the corner of his mouth and was immediately horrified to find that Gamora was correct. "Ugghhhh," he groaned, burying his face back in his pillow. "I can't be perfect all the time, geez."

Gamora laughed softly. "I believe most of the inhabitants of the galaxy are aware of that fact."

"Ouch," he muttered, turning his face slightly so she could see his half-feigned wounded expression. "Why are you even in here? It's gotta be, like, five am in the morning-"

"Four forty-five, to be exact," she said, a slight smirk at the corners of her mouth.

"You're kidding me," Peter said, staring at her flatly. He burrowed violently under the blankets. "Why am I awakeeeeeee," he moaned pathetically, his voice muffled.

"Because in exactly two hours we will be arriving at Knowhere. And you owe me breakfast," Gamora said, a slight vengefulness in her voice.

"But-but-" Peter stuttered, the top of his head peeking out from underneath the blanket, his hair in wild disarray. "It's _four in the morning_."

"Four forty-five," Gamora corrected. "Stop gaping about it-it is not that early."

"_Not that early_-are you even human?!" Peter asked incredulously. Gamora gave him a flat look. "Right-bad choice of words," he corrected hurriedly. "But seriously!"

"We have two hours until we reach Knowhere, and therefore two more hours of peace before the Collector sends us all running crazy," Gamora snapped. "And I wish to spend them with you. Primarily your chocolate-chip waffles. But also you."

Peter's irritated expression softened. "Well, when you put it that way…ugh," he sighed, shoving his face back into his pillow. He immediately raised it, rocking himself into a sitting position as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Fine," he said, giving her a tired but sincere grin. "Let's go make waffles."

* * *

"Y'know, normally these things fall into the 'unhealthy' category," Peter said to Gamora as he measured out the flour he'd bought at a trading outpost weeks earlier. "Which kinda seems to go against your super-healthy diet thing, given the amount of these things we make." He cut her a smirk. "Kinda makes it hypocritical when you lecture me for eating junk."

"That is because all you ever eat is junk," Gamora shot back from her perch on the _Milano_'s kitchen unit counter, eyes fixed on Peter as he worked. "And chocolate-chip waffles do not fall into the category of junk. They have their own special category of superior goodness."

"Well, you aren't wrong," Peter said with a grin as he added milk to the bowl. "Though at the rate we're going through these things, we're gonna have to hit another outpost soon, pick up some Terran goods."

"I shall put it at the top of our list," Gamora murmured, watching Peter as he cracked an egg, teeth biting over his lip in concentration as he gently shattered it, her eyes lingering on the crease of his brow and the rebellious locks of hair that fell into his face.

"Yeah, waffles always take priority-what?" he asked as he caught her staring, his hand half-raised to throw away the egg shells.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "I just-thank you." Peter frowned, tossing away the shells and crossing over to her.

"For what?" he asked, their eyes nearly level as he leaned up against the counter she was sitting on.

"For making me chocolate-chip waffles, of course," she said, glancing down with a smile. "I imagine it damages your reputation."

"Psh, reputation," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "All that's done is get me shot at, anyways. Besides," he said, smiling flirtatiously at her. "I'd happily ruin my reputation anytime for you."

"How sweet," Gamora replied, half-mockingly.

"I am that, sometimes," he grinned, kissing her lightly. "Now c'mon," he said, reaching for her hand to pull her down. "You're gonna help me cook these things."

"I believe the proper term is bake-oh, _ew_, what is that on your hands?" she said with disgust, yanking her hand away from Peter's.

"Uh, that'd be the egg," Peter laughed. "I'm not the best at cracking those."

"You covered my hand in egg guts," she said flatly, glaring at him.

"Egg guts-for star's sake, it's not the corpse of some enemy," Peter said exasperatedly. "It's _food_."

"That makes it no less disgusting," Gamora said, wrinkling her nose as she wiped the gooey substance off.

"Oh please," Peter said, fiddling with the waffle-maker. "How is that worse than your hands being covered in, like, blood or something?"

"I do not know what you are talking about," Gamora said. "Now make those waffles."

"Fine, fine, you're impatient," Peter muttered, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips. "Chocolate?" he said, offering her one of the tiny chocolate pieces.

"Thank you," she said happily as she popped the chocolate in her mouth, savoring the sweetness. Peter grinned at her, then tossed a handful in his own mouth.

"Peter!" she laughed, half-exasperated. "Don't! There will be less in the waffles."

"Mmh-mmh," Peter grinned at her, shaking his head as he swallowed the chocolate. "Plenty to go around."

Gamora just shook her head as Peter finished mixing the chocolate chips in, carefully pouring a measured amount of the mix into the waffle maker. He snapped the top down and glanced at his watch.

"Give 'em a minute or two," he said, hopping up next to her on the counter. The warm aroma of the chocolate and waffle wafted through the kitchen space. They sat there in comfortable silence, Gamora leaning slightly against Peter's side as they watched the waffle maker. It was markedly peaceful, and Gamora felt a deep sense of contentment run through her as she took in the smell of the waffles, Peter's warmth against her side, and the quiet hum of the ship.

The waffle maker ended the moment with a small _ping_, and as good as the waffles looked, Gamora felt a stab of annoyance towards the machine for interrupting the moment.

"Perfect, as usual," Peter said, delicately peeling the waffle out of the mold and placing it on a plate. He handed her it with a flourish. "One chocolate chip waffle, m'lady."

"Mmm," any sarcastic replies Gamora may have had died as she bit into the waffle. "Fanks," she said through a mouthful. "You make the best food."

"Just waffles," Peter laughed, resetting the waffle maker. "My other cooking skills are kinda lacking." He glanced at the mixing bowl. "I think I can get one more outta this, than I better ditch the evidence before the others-"

"Oh good, Quill's makin' waffles," Rocket's half-awake remark came from the doorway.

"How generous of you," Drax said with a grin as Peter groaned, the rest of the team filing into the kitchen.

"No," he said firmly. "There's no way I'm cooking for all you guys. No way."

* * *

"These waffles you insist on putting chocolate in are most enjoyable," Drax commented, mouthful of waffles.

"Yeah, gotta be honest, Quill, these are the only reason I'm willin' to let you be leader."

"Glad to know the only reason you keep me around is for my cooking," Peter muttered, licking a speck of chocolate off his fingers, his supply of Terran ingredients quite sadly diminished.

"Among other reasons," Gamora said, smiling slightly. Peter returned the smile, winking at her, and Rocket mimed vomiting.

"Cut the sap, some of us are trying to eat here."

"If their affections trouble your stomach so, I will be happy to finish your waffles for you," Drax said, eyeing the half-eaten waffle on Rocket's plate. Rocket grabbed at it protectively.

"No, you don't touch my waffle, you over-eatin' bottomless pit-watch, I'm eatin' them now-" Rocket proceeded to stuff the remaining waffle in his mouth.

"I am Groot!" Groot said concernedly, watching Rocket attempt to cram the food into his mouth.

"Fut up," Rocket said, cheeks bulging.

"For star's sake, Rocket, do not do _that_," Gamora huffed at him.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, man-"

Peter's admonition was cut off as a screeching wail echoed through the _Milano_, followed by a harsh jolt that sent the five sprawling.

"What the _fu-_"

"Under attack!" Gamora burst out, enemy fire the first thing to jump to her mind. Peter and Drax's eyes went wide, the two jumping up to sprint to the cockpit. Gamora grabbed the half-choking Rocket, taking a second to hiss "_That's what you get_," and sprinted after them, followed by Groot.

She skipped the bottom three steps and flung herself up the ladder, Rocket wriggling free of her grasp and running to aid Peter with the controls as she threw herself into the nearest seat.

"What is it?" she asked breathlessly as she scanned the skies for attackers.

"I do not see any enemy ships," Drax said, puzzled.

"Well, the good news is we've reached Knowhere," Peter grit out, gripping the controls with white knuckles. "On the other hand, I think there might be something wrong with our shi-"

His explanation morphed into a shriek as the _Milano_ abruptly dropped, along with the stomachs of the five passengers.

"Quill! What the _hell_?!"

"Ah-sorry-not my fault!" Peter yelled as he wrestled with the controls of the Milano, the ship bucking and dipping wildly. "C'mon, baby-what the heck! I just checked the engine on this thing why are we-_shit_-what's wrong with her?!"

"Must've been Kallu's fricked-up weather," Rocket muttered, frantically aiding Peter with the controls. "Probably damaged the-_gah!_-back jets and engine."

"No way!" Peter protested. "My ship doesn't get brought down by snow-"

"Peter watch it!" Gamora shrieked as they narrowly missed ramming into one of Knowhere's higher reaching buildings.

"Damnit," Peter muttered. "We need somewhere to land _now_-"

"There!" Rocket yelled, pointing at the narrow landing strip on an abandoned section on the planet. "Put us down there!"

"Okay, okay," Peter assured frantically as he maneuvered the jerking ship down. "We got this, my baby's got this, c'mon, c'mon-" There was a hideous grinding as the engine stalled completely and the Milano began to free fall.

"Oh shit shit shit no-"

"Agggghhhhh!" Rocket shrieked as they plummeted towards the earth.

"PETER!" Gamora screamed at him. The ground came rushing up to meet them as they picked up speed.

"Shit-c'mon, _c'mon_-got it!" There was a powerful jerk as the five were thrown violently against their seatbelts, the Milano's engines powering up at the last second, the ship hovering mere yards from the ground.

"Whew," Peter gasped, head thunking against his seat as he gently landed the ship on the ground. "That was close."

"Haha," Rocket said faintly as he leaned back limply in his seat, the rest of the Guardians staring forward with wide eyes. A burst of crackling erupted from the engine and they all jumped.

"Aw, no, no, no!" Peter cried, unbuckling his seatbelt as he headed to the engine room. "Don't do this to me!"

"Damn," Rocket muttered, unbuckling his own belt and hopping down. "That sounded like our power core just fried."

"Meaning?" Gamora queried as she and the others moved gingerly from their seats.

"Meaning the Milano ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon," Rocket said downheartedly as Peter's heartbroken cry of "_No!"_ echoed through the ship.

"I believe that confirms it," Drax remarked. Gamora massaged her temples.

"Wonderful," she muttered.

"I am Groot," Groot said sadly. Rocket groaned and slid down the ladder, joining Peter in the engine room.

"Yup!" he called to the other three, voice echoing through the ship. "We're earth-bound." Peter gave another moan of despair. "Eh, shouldn't be that hard to fix. Maybe a week or two." Peter moaned even louder, their voices drawing nearer as the two clambered back to the cockpit. "Would you shut up? It ain't that bad! You shoulda checked it after we left Kallu! We're lucky we not a flaming wreck right now!"

"I didn't think _snow_ would wreck it!" Peter yelped indignantly as he climbed back up the ladder. "It was just snow!"

"Yeah, snow and wind and a whole lotta ice freezing and re-freezing. That's what we get for leaving it there overnight."

"Dangit," Peter moaned, throwing himself face-first into one of the pilot's seats.

"I am Groot," Groot said comfortingly as he patted him on the back.

"It is what it is, I suppose," Gamora sighed. "We will have to rent a ship or be stranded here for a week."

"A most unpleasant place to be stranded at," Drax muttered. Rocket hit the door controls, kicking Peter in the leg as he headed out.

"C'mon, baby. Let's see what this guy wants."

* * *

The meeting place the Collector chose was, much to the Guardian's relief, considerably less ostentatious and threatening than the last. The simple but lavish room in the higher levels of Knowhere's residential complexes suggested that while his collection may be in ruins, the Collector's money did not suffer a similar fate. Which was good, because this entire thing would be worth nothing if it had.

"A pleasure to see you again...Guardians," the Collector addresses them, gesturing for them to sit at the conference table.

"Doubtful," Rocket muttered. The Collector's lip curled.

"I admit, our last encounter ended less than desirably. Hopefully, this one will not end the same."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, enough with the pleasantries," Peter burst out, earning a look from Gamora. He ignored it, plowing on. "What exactly do you want from us?"

"Your services," the Collector said, intertwining his fingers. "In retrieving an item of certain value."

"How original," Gamora clipped venomously.

"This isn't gonna be a repeat of last time, is it?" Peter asked sardonically.

"Last time, you already had the object in your possession, and my fool of an assistant...complicated things," the Collector said darkly. "Have you heard of the Aether?"

"The huh?" Peter asked confusedly, the rest of the team looking equally bemused-save Gamora.

"The weapon of the Dark Elves," she said, troubled. "An immensely powerful substance, capable of plunging the universe into darkness. Last I heard, the Asgardians had taken care of it."

"Correct," the Collector said, nodding at her. "For the most part. I was entrusted with the Aether." Gamora's jaw dropped slightly.

"No," she denied. "You cannot be serious-"

"Unfortunately, Lady Gamora, I am fully serious," the Collector sighed.

"Wait-you mean you lost a super-powerful weapon entrusted to you by Asgard?" Peter asked incredulously.

"Stolen," the Collector muttered. "It was stolen."

"Man, you are a hundred kinds of dead," Peter said as Rocket whistled.

"You'd think you'd get some proper security with somethin' that important lyin' around," he scoffed.

"It had proper security. I merely failed to plan for the explosion of an _Infinity Stone_," the Collector hissed. "That, and whoever stole it possessed technology more advanced than I've seen in a while," he mused, sounding begrudgingly admiring.

"Do you know who stole it?" Peter asked, frowning.

"As of now, no," the Collector said. "But I have my suspicions. None of them of a good nature."

"Great," Peter said, leaning back in his chair. "So you want us to track down some random thief with advanced tech who's stolen some super-powerful weapon they may or may not be able to use-wait, can they use it?"

"Doubtful," the Collector replied. "Much like the orb, it takes a certain amount of…power, to wield it. I suspect whoever stole it has little knowledge of its true value."

" 'Much like the orb' " Gamora repeated flatly. "How much, exactly, like the orb?"

"I do not seek to hide the truth from you, Lady Gamora," the Collector cut. He took a breath. "The Aether is, as I do not doubt you have guessed, an Infinity Stone." Gamora nodded, suspicions confirmed as she glared at him.

"_What,"_ Peter and Rocket chorused, both staring at him in disbelief. Drax looked disinterested.

"Or one of you has guessed, at any rate," the Collector muttered.

"You're joking," Peter said. "Please, tell me you're joking." The Collector merely raised an eyebrow.

"Oh stars," Peter muttered, running his hands over his face. "Oh, _stars._"

"You've gotta be kiddin' me," Rocket growled. "After what went down with the first one, you honestly think we're just gonna go throw our lives away for another one a' those death rocks?"

"If the pay is substantial, I had hoped you would care enough for the consequences that would result if another finds it first," the Collector said calmly. "Thanos, to name one."

"Wha-no!" Rocket sputtered.

"Yes," Gamora said firmly, ignoring the rest of the team's disbelieving stares. "We do care. Which is why you knew we would accept."

"Wait-_accept_?" Rocket gaped at her. "Did you get amnesia or somethin'? Forget the way our skin literally got _peeled off_-"

"That was a most unpleasant experience," Drax muttered.

"-how Xandar was nearly fricking _obliterated_-"

"Of course I remember!" Gamora shot back. "That is exactly why we are going to accept! If Thanos gets his hands on it before us, there will be no safe place in any galaxy!"

"Then get Nova Corps on it!" Rocket barked. "It's kinda a galaxy-wide problem there! Get a damn expert on the stones!"

"I believe the best qualified people currently available to handle an Infinity Stone are in this room," the Collector quipped. "You are, as you would say, the only accessible 'experts' at successfully containing a stone."

"Don't go getting' smart, you underhanded-"

"He's right," Peter cut in, speaking for the first time since the argument had began. Eyes turned to him. "As much as it sucks, if anyone's got a chance of containing an Infinity Stone, it's us. Unless you can call the Asgardians?" he gave the Collector a questioning look.

"Ah," the Collector looked uncomfortable. "It would be preferable not to involve them, for…varied reasons." He shifted. "At any rate, contacting them would take far too long, as well as drawing a good deal of unwanted attention."

"Damn," Peter muttered. He rubbed at his face again. "I guess we don't have much of a choice then."

"The hell?!" Rocket turned on him. "Quill, the risk-"

"This is not the first time," Peter said firmly. "This is different. No one will need to sacrifice themselves." He turned to Groot, sincere. "Promise." Groot hummed contentedly, laying a comforting hand on Rocket. The raccoon merely growled, looking put out.

"Then we have a deal?" The Collector queried. Gamora and Peter exchanged a glance. Peter huffed out a breath.

"Yeah," he said. "We're in."

"Good," the Collector smiled. "My assistant will tell you what you need to know." He beckoned to a young boy, and the Guardians stood.

"Oh, and Mr. Quill," the Collector addressed Peter as he turned to leave.

"It's Star-lord," he corrected with a sigh. "And what?"

"You'll want to keep an eye out. I believe there is a...considerable bounty resting on you."

"Oh," Peter said, looking away. "Yeah. Was wondering when Yondu'd put that up."

"Take care," the Collector said. "If this mission does not succeed, I may be tempted to take him up on that bounty myself."

"You wish, Rocket snorted. "If anyone's takin' him up on that bounty, it's us."

"Come _on," _Gamora sighed exasperatedly as she dragged them out of the room.

* * *

"We think the Aether was stolen by someone from the Shi'ar Galaxy," the Collector's assistant, Jorin, informed the five Guardians as they picked their way carefully through the wreckage of the Collector's former gallery.

"What makes you say that?" Peter asked, spinning slightly as he just missed smashing his head into low-hanging debris.

"Well, the explosion destroyed a lot of stuff," Jorin said. "But the safe he had the Aether in wasn't completely destroyed. It was a pretty complex safe," he muttered.

"I can imagine," Gamora said, scanning the upper levels with a frown.

"Gam? Anything wrong?" Peter asked.

"No, I just-" she frowned again. "Thought I saw something. It was the light, though-continue."

"Anyways, whatever the thief used to break into it looks a lot like Shi'ar tech," Jorin continued as he stopped in front of what used to be a smooth security panel, now smashed and fried to bits, revealing an empty stand inside.

"Let's see," Rocket said, scurrying forward to examine the wreckage. His paws ran carefully over the seared edges, inspecting. "Yup," he said after a minute, straightening. "That's Shi'ar tech. They've got real unique welders there. Useful as hell, but dead giveaways. Whoever filched this was a moron." He shook his head.

"Shi'ar galaxy," Peter mused. "That's relatively far. Last I heard, they weren't known for thievery-just not particularly friendly."

"Well, you got the Shi'ar people themselves," Rocket said. "They ain't too concerning-just obsessively non-artistic. Actually, they can be kinda brutal, come to think of it." Rocket muttered.

"And the Spartoi," Gamora added.

"I remember them," Drax mused. "They have most useful weaponry."

"Wait-who the heck are the Spartoi?" Peter asked, staring at them.

"The Spartax Empire, Peter," Gamora sighed. "They are not that unknown."

"Useful weaponry, clash with the Badoon, look kinda human," Rocket said. "Haven't been that active lately."

"Whatever," Peter said. "Just another problem to worry about. Anything that'll actually help us find the Aether?"

"Well," Rocket said, scrutinizing the destroyed safe again. "It's a safe bet to say someone with Shi'ar connections got it-if I had to guess, probably someone from an outlying planet over in that galaxy. They got a bunch of auctions there-real prestigious things, where a bunch of stuck-up, filthy-rich a-holes buy their illegal stuff."

"I have attended one of those," Gamora said, looking thoughtful. "They are interesting events-the upper classes mingling with common thieves. If the thief had any idea the value of what he was stealing, it is a likely bet that is where he would go." She shot Peter a look. "I am surprised you do not know of this-did the Ravagers not deal with the Shi'ar auctioners?"

"If they did, I sure as heck didn't know," Peter muttered. "Didn't know a whole lot about operations, really." He shook his head. "At any rate, it's unimportant-Rocket, got any ideas of how to find the particular auction our thief went to?"

"Already on it, Moon-boy," Rocket said as he fiddled with a datapad, ignoring Peter's annoyed "It's _Star-lord."_

"Scanning now," he said, waving the blue screen. "Any auctions happenin' over in the Shi'ar galaxy soon'll pop up. We just gotta find the right one."

"And we are certain this is where the thief has fled?" Drax asked, doubtfully.

"If it's really a thief with Shi'ar tech, it's our best bet," Rocket replied.

"Oh, it definitely is," Jorin piped up, causing the five to jump. "Master checked the security feeds that weren't blown. It's a Shi'ar auctioner."

"The _security feeds_," Peter said flatly.

"That he already checked," Gamora said with equal flatness. The others gaped at the boy.

"Uh…yeah?" he said, uncertainly.

"I _hate_ that guy," Rocket growled, throwing the datapad across the floor.

* * *

"Shi'ar," the dark-skinned woman breathed from the shadows in the upper rafters. She crawled quietly towards the blown-out wall, taking care to hide among the wreckage and darkness. The Zen-Whoberian woman had nearly caught her-she needed to be more careful. She emerged from the wreckage, standing at the edge, scanning the brightly-lit city. Taking a breath, she jumped.

The wind rushed past her as she fell, plummeting towards the ground, only to land gracefully and silently on her feet. Straightening, she walked purposefully towards the abandoned residential section. Striding silently through the darkened rows of buildings, she ducked into a run-down hanger-

Only to be met with a blaster in her face.

"Relax," she hissed. "It's me."

"Captain Victoria," the blaster-wielder, a humanoid in dark clothes said contritely, nodding his head. "My apologies."

"No," she said. "You need to be on guard-it's going to come in handy."

"You found the Infinity Stone?" Another blaster-wielding man asked, stepping out of the dark.

"Not the stone, but a definite lead," she said. "The Collector has hired a team he believes will find it-the Guardians of the Galaxy. The king wants us to follow them."

"Are you sure that's the best idea?" The first soldier asked, following her as she headed further into the hangar.

"It's out best chance," Victoria said, tapping a control on her wrist. From seemingly out of thin air, a sleek ship shimmered into existence. "And we cannot afford to fail this mission. The king is depending on us."

"As you command, Captain," the man muttered, beckoning to the other hidden soldiers as they clambered into the ship.

"As the king commands," Victoria murmured, following him. "We've got a team of five-lock onto them and let's go."


	5. Chapter 4

**The best way to describe this chapter would be tears, pain, and an utter failure to balance school work with my writing schedule. (And yes, I have completely neglected this fic to start about five hundred oneshots but that's not important I'm sorry). Anyways, hehe, the point is that it's finally up! And I really need to stop writing at two am in the morning :P**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"You are positive this will hold?" Rocket rolled his eyes.

"For the last time, yes, I'm sure it will hold. Who do you think you're talking to here?"

"A psycho who takes too much joy in blowing stuff up?" Peter muttered as he inspected the _Milano_'s back jets. Gamora snorted. Groot merely hummed in agreement.

"Yeah, well I'm not in a habit of blowing_ myself_ up, so suck it up and get in the ship!" Rocket growled, glaring at them. "I spent two _days_ doing maintenance on this thing-it'll be fine!"

"If you are sure," Drax said warily, climbing into the _Milano_. The remaining three continued to eye the ship warily. Gamora finally sighed.

"If we blow up in the middle of space, I will resurrect us both and murder you," she huffed as she entered the ship. Rocket rolled his eyes as Peter suppressed a grin.

"Your trust in me is breathtaking," the raccoon muttered darkly. He turned to Groot. "Get on already, you wimp!" Groot gave a low whine, but proceeded to climb delicately into the ship always. Peter shook his head, patting the _Milano_ on the side as he hauled himself up.

"Hold on, baby," he murmured, ignoring Rocket's exasperated sigh.

"You're impossible."

* * *

_Tap, tap, tap_.

Peter drummed his fingers on the console of the _Milano_, brow furrowed as he stared out into the galaxy. The beeping of the navigation controls informed him that they were still a whiles away from the Shi'ar Galaxy. The stars blinked brightly in the distance, the space in front of them clear, so technically it would be safe for him to join the rest of the team below in slumber-if he could find such a thing.

He sighed wearily, running a hand through his hair and throwing the curls into even greater disarray. This mission had gone from a simple cash proposal to gravely serious life-or-death mission far too quickly for his liking. He knew he shouldn't be nearly this unsure - they were the Guardians of the Galaxy, and securing something with the ability to cause such devastation was their responsibility-Gamora was right, as she always was. It was hard, though, especially in his position as leader, to sit calm with that. Yes, they had a responsibility to the galaxy, but Peter had a responsibility to his team - and that was to keep them safe. They depended on him, trusted him – and the weight of that trust was something he'd come to know far too well in the past months.

It had to be one of the crazier developments that had smashed itself into his life after he'd grabbed that orb. He'd been a great many things in his life thus far, and pretended to be even more - but even in his wildest dreams he'd never been able to imagine a realistic scenario where he had to lead people – much less those people actually _listened_ to him. Not that the Guardians were a realistic scenario by any stretch of the imagination, of course, but even then - he was by far the most vulnerable person on the team, and, if he was going to be honest, probably the least capable in battle.

The only thing he really had going for him was the fact that he could get through conversations without blowing anything up. He was the closest thing they had to a diplomat - well, he could negotiate, at the very least.

And he loved leading the Guardians, he really did. He just didn't love being unable to sleep at two AM in the morning because he may very well be leading everyone he cared about to their deaths.

The soft clatter of someone ascending the ladder yanked him out of his internal musings, causing him to jump as he quickly spun around in his chair. Rocket's dark eyes assessed him as he pulled himself up the ladder. Peter greeted him with a nod, squashing the slight disappointment he felt that had nothing to do with the fact that Rocket wasn't Gamora.

" 'sup," he said as the raccoon slid into the copilot's seat.

"Hmph," Rocket grunted back, staring down at the control readings. "We're makin' good time. Oughtta be there by tomorrow."

"That's the _Milano_ for you," Peter said, running an appreciative hand over his ship. Rocket shot him a glance.

"So when'd you turn into an insomniac?" Peter raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question.

"Dunno," he shrugged. "About the same time I accepted a psycho's mission to fetch one of the most dangerous things in the galaxy."

"Regrettin' it, then?" Rocket asked. Peter shook his head, meeting his friend's skeptical gaze.

"No," he said slowly. "I'd go crazy if we didn't accept, worrying about it." Rocket nodded, eyes indicating he felt the same.

"Besides," Peter continued. "We could probably use the money."

"Yeah, well lemme tell you, there are a whole lotta easier ways of getting money." Rocket muttered.

"Nice, legal ways?"

"Eh," Rocket scoffed. Peter smirked. He leaned back in the pilot's chair, watching the stars.

"I'm worried," he said after a pause. Aware of Rocket's gaze on him, he continued. "I'm worried about what happens when this goes wrong. 'Cause it will, that's just our luck, and that's - I can deal with that, but I can't-" he exhaled heavily. "I'm gonna sound sappy and pathetic and Terran, but I'm just - I'm _worried_. About you guys." He trailed off, avoiding Rocket's gaze.

The cockpit was silent for a moment. Realizing how he must have sounded – as well as who he was with - Peter cleared his throat.

"I mean, I'm worried you guys are gonna end up wrecking my reputation, y'know, if this goes wrong-"

"Bullshit," Rocket said. Peter shut up. The raccoon sighed.

"Much as it _kills_ me to say this, Quill, we're followin' your lead for a reason," he said. "And despite all the messed-up, crazy shit you've gotten us into, we're alive, aren't we?"

Peter kept quiet. He knew this would likely be the only time he'd hear these words form this particular friend's mouth.

"Anyways, the point is, we trusted you. We're trustin' you now. And you gotta trust us." Peter smiled softly at that, and Rocket growled, turning away. "Doesn't mean you still aren't the biggest idiot ever to grace the galaxy."

"Thanks," Peter said, still smiling. Rocket merely grunted back, but it was enough.

"So you think she'll last us 'til Shi'ar?" Peter asked after a moment's silence, patting the _Milano'_s console as he changed the subject.

"Well we'll get there, that's for sure," Rocket said. "Whether or not we survive the landing's up for debate."

Peter winced.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Rocket said. "It might be a quick patch-job, but it's _my_ quick patch-job. It'll hold."

"Whatever you say," Peter said airily. Rocket glared at him.

"What? I _trust_ you."

"Shut it, Quill," Rocket snapped, but his tone was light. "And go to bed. Last thing we need's a leader who can't keep his eyes open."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter muttered, rising from the seat and picking his way to the ladder. He turned back to Rocket as he stepped down.

"You got her?"

"Duh," Rocket said. "I got her."

* * *

"So you think those guys will bring your stone back?" Jorin asked the Collector for the fiftieth time. Perhaps that was an exaggeration. But to the Collector, that number seemed about right.

"Don't you have other things to be concerning yourself with?" he said stiffly, glaring at the boy.

"Uh…maybe," Jorin said sheepishly. The Collector sighed.

"Then concern yourself with them," he snapped. The boy rose quickly, giving a quick nod as he dashed out the door. The Collector breathed a sigh of relief. Helpful as the boy was with picking things out of the wreckage, the first thing he needed to do when he got the chance was hire a much less _annoying _assistant.

And then terrify the unfortunate victim half to death, but that came later.

"Uh, master?"

The Collector jerked up as Jorin poked his head back in the room.

"Boy, did you hear a _word_ I said-"

"But it's important!" he exclaimed. "You have visitors-"

"Well tell them I am unavailable and get _rid of them-_"

"That may not end well for you, Tivan."

The Collector snapped to attention at the female voice, blood freezing in his veins. He turned slowly, praying to any deities listening that he had misheard.

"You have much to answer for."

No such luck. In his door stood the last two figures in any galaxy he'd wanted to see.

"My Lady Sif," he said quickly, rising. "And Lord Volstagg. A pleasure to see you again." _So soon_, he added bitterly under his breath.

"I wish we could say the same," Volstagg said. "As Lady Sif said, you have something to answer for."

The Collector swallowed.

"Perhaps you should come in."

* * *

"On a scale from one to criminally awful, how stupid do I look right now?"

"Somewhere around the moronic dork mark," Rocket muttered as he adjusted his dress wear. Peter shot him a flat look.

"Thank you so much for that encouragement," he replied darkly, pulling at the sleeves of his own dress clothes. The Aether better be here, he thought darkly. Threat of death stones aside, the mandatory formal dress requirements already had the mission going downhill.

"I am Groot?"

"For the last time, you can't come with us!" Rocket said. Groot gave a sad whine.

"I'm sorry, buddy, but he's right," Peter said. "We need you and Drax on the outside, with the ship. If things go sour, we're gonna need you guys to bail us out."

"Not to mention the two of you'd draw too dang much attention," Rocket muttered.

"I am Groot."

"What do you mean, you're one to talk?!"

"Alright guys, cut it out," Peter said, pulling on the formal black jacket he'd picked up earlier. "We need to get going."

"Yeah, yeah," Rocket said, stepping out into the hall. "Gamora! You ready?"

"Of course," the woman in question said smoothly, sweeping out of her room. "I was ready hours ago."

"Alri- _hngh_," Peter trailed off as he caught sight of her, dressed in a floor-length silver gown, dark hair swept back neatly. "You uh – you look – _wow_ –"

"Stars, Quill, spare us, _please_," Rocket huffed as Gamora's cheeks darkened slightly. "You both look beautiful. Can we go?"

"Yeah – uh, sure," Peter said distractedly, still staring at Gamora. "Uh – Drax and Groot, you on board?"

"We're on board at this moment, as we have been for the last several days," Drax said. He cut over Peter's exasperated sigh with a slight grin. "However, if you are referring to whether or not we know what our role in the plan is, the answer is yes."

"Good," Peter said wearily. "And sorry you guys can't come in with us."

"On the contrary," Drax said. "I am sorry you have to go."

"He's got a point," Rocket muttered, glaring at their dress attire.

"Neither of you have any right to complain until you're wearing a dress," Gamora snapped, making the others flinch. "Can we get this over with?"

"We're going, we're going!" Peter said hastily, strapping the last of his weapons underneath his jacket. "Groot, Drax, we'll be back soon with Aether," he addressed the two with a confident grin.

"And the Shi'ar auction hall in rubble," Gamora muttered, pulling up her dress as the three climbed out of the ship.

Groot waved cheerfully at their backs, turning to Drax as he relaxed in the pilot's seat.

"I am Groot?"

"Of course I have faith in them," Drax said. He glanced towards the weapons room. "But simply to be cautious, perhaps we should uncover Rocket's weapon stash."

* * *

The Shi'ar auction gala was every bit as horrific as Peter had expected it to be. He felt completely out of place amidst the finely dressed crowds, awkwardly shuffling through the conversing buyers as he covertly scanned the room. It was by far the most luxurious event he'd ever seen hosted for a criminal operation.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered as a waiter swept by them, offering drinks and food to party-goers. "Does anyone here understand what low-key is?"

"They don't have to," Rocket replied from where he was perched comfortably on Peter's shoulder, having claimed the view was better from there. "This planet's about as shady as Knowhere. You got practically no law enforcement - and even if you did, half the people here control said enforcement anyhow."

"A collection of dishonorable thieves," Gamora added. Peter shifted uncomfortably at her phrasing. Ignoring him, Gamora turned, dark eyes scanning the open hall. "I don't see anything on display yet."

"They're probably waiting for dramatic effect," Peter muttered, eyeing the drinks set out nearby.

"Don't even think about it," Gamora hissed, catching his glances. "The last thing we need tonight is you drunk and incompetent."

"I wasn't – hey!" Peter said indignantly. "I wouldn't compromise the mission like that! And besides," he said with a smirk. "Who says I'm incompetent when I'm drunk?"

"Everyone you know and more," Rocket said as Gamora rolled her eyes.

"Hey," Peter protested weakly, pouting.

"Suck it up, ya big baby."

"Make me, asshole."

"Your maturity is _blindin_' me-"

"I _will_ throw you off my shoulder-"

"Not if I have my teeth hooked in your neck, you won't."

"What do you – _what the heck_ man!"

"Both of you, shut up!" Gamora hissed at them. "They're starting the auction!" Peter and Rocket ceased their fighting, glaring at each other but turning to the raised dais on which a Shi'ar merchant was advertising several of his wares.

"Pathetic," Rocket muttered as people began deliberating prices. "He's got nothin' worth even half what these people are offering."

"It doesn't matter," Gamora said. "All that matters is that we find the Aether."

"Yeah, and I'm not seeing it," Peter frowned, scanning the lineup of sellers and their goods.

"Man, if we came here for nothing, I'm gonna blow somethin' up," Rocket muttered.

"Well you were the one who brought us here, so I suggest you _suck it up_."

"Quill, I _swear_ -"

"Shut up and look, _now_," Gamora cut in with a sharp intake of breath, pointing to one of the sellers setting up to the side. The Shi'ar male appeared relatively unremarkable, his clothing drab compared to the other sellers. It was not, however, the man that had caught Gamora's attention, but the item he was placing on a pedestal.

Set atop said pedestal now lay a single container, simple in design but obviously well-made – if flecked with cracks. It was not the container that drew the three's attention, however, but the deep, glowing red that emanated from behind the glass.

A glowing light that sang with a power the three were all-too familiar with.

"That's it," Gamora breathed. "Peter, it's the Aether – it's _right there_-"

"Okay, okay," Peter whispered, eyes darting around the room as the seller gestured towards the container, assessing the situation. "This is gonna be tough – but we absolutely _cannot_ let anyone else get their hands on that."

"We cannot afford any rash moves," Gamora hissed. "A premature attack will only get us-"

The sharp crack of a gun cut her off, eliciting shrieks from the crowd as the buyers scattered away from the origin of the sound. The three spun around, just glancing the dark figures emerging from the crowds, led by a dark-haired woman brandishing a gun.

"In the name of Spartax forces, this object is ours," she declared to the panicking crowd, pointing towards the container. "It will be in your best interest to vacate the premises immediately."

"Speaking of premature moves," Peter said faintly as the half the crowd began to shift towards the doors, others reaching for their weapons.

"Damnit," Rocket muttered. "This complicates things."

"This complicates nothing," Gamora hissed, reaching for her knife as the mercenaries began pulling out their own weapons, clearly rearing for a fight. "We merely take it by force."

"Woah woah woah," Peter interjected. "Let's just-"

His sputtering was cut off as Gamora shoved her hand onto his jacket, withdrawing a flash bomb as she turned, vaulting over a table and charging the self-titled Spartax authorities, ducking as they traded blaster fire with the enraged mercenaries.

"-just charge in and say to hell with it," Peter finished weakly as the crowd descending into a panic, screams reverberating around the hall as people ran for cover.

"You literally _just _said _no premature attacks!" _Rocket yelled in exasperation at Gamora's retreating figure.

"Damnit, Gam," Peter hissed, withdrawing his gun from his jacket as he followed Gamora into the chaos, the hum of Rocket's gun buzzing dangerously close to his ear.

"I've got Miss Reckless and these morons over here," Rocket yelled in his ear as they ducked through the screaming crowds, blaster fire cracking around them. "You got the Aether?"

"On it," Peter replied as Rocket's weight slid off his shoulder, the raccoon diving into the battle with a manic glee.

Peter changed direction, ducking under a table just as the flash bomb went off, several shrieks piercing the air as both the Spartax forces and mercenaries were temporarily blinded. Shooting a glance behind him Peter saw Gamora engaged with several of the Spartax guards, dress whirling as she slashed at them.

Good. Gamora could handle herself.

Whirling back around Peter began shoving though the crowds of fleeing people, eyes scanning the room desperately.

Where was it, he'd_ just seen it_-

There. Glowing scarlet and humming with energy, every bit as threatening as he remembered the first one feeling.

Pushing himself into a dead sprint, Peter shot towards the pedestal, stepping up onto a table and propelling himself forward with the force of his own momentum, hurtling down towards it and-

"Got it!" he yelled triumphantly, stumbling into a summersault as he landed hard. "Got it! Guys, let's go-_woah!_"

His escape was abruptly cut off as a sword missed cleaving his head from his shoulders by mere inches.

"Hand over the Aether! Now!"

Peter whirled to face the dark-skinned, dark-haired woman from before, armed with a determined expression on her face and a menacing sword in her grasp. And judging from her stance, she looked like she knew how to use it.

"Wha - no way, you don't understand what this _is _- agh!"

His stammered protests were cut off as she neatly swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. His breath stuttered into gasps as the wind flew out of him, his fingers still tightly gripping the container as he blinked at the blurring lights above him.

With a groan he tried to push himself up, only to be shoved back down as the woman pinned him to the floor, sword raised and pointed at him. This was starting to feel familiar.

"I know _exactly_ what the Aether is, fool!" she hissed. "And I will not let you allow it to fall into the hands of Thanos by pawning it off!"

"Let me _what - _no, no, you've got the wrong idea!" Peter gasped out as she narrowed her eyes at him, sword rising higher. "I'm not gonna hand it to Thanos – I'm one of the good guys! Guardian of the Galaxy! Star-lord! Peter Quill! I'm-"

"Quill?" The woman frowned, voice incredulous. "You're ly-"

She halted, eyes widening as they raked over his face. Her grip on her sword loosened as her face split into an expression of utter disbelief. Confused as he was himself, Peter took the opening , desperately trying to talk himself out of danger.

"Yeah - Quill, that's me - you might've heard of me – never mind you probably haven't, I'm from Terra, it's kinda far from here-"

"No," the woman muttered, frowning. "No, that's not-"

"Get your hands _off_ him!"

A silver and green blur flashed by Peter's vision as a solid _smack_ echoed through air, sending the woman flying. Blinking, Peter looked up to see Gamora standing over him, hair flying and knife raised, and by far the most beautiful thing Peter had ever seen.

"I _love_ you," he gasped out as he shoved himself to his feet, mirroring her defensive position as he joined her. "Like you are beyond a doubt, the absolute _best-_"

"Not now, Peter," she said, but there was the smallest of smiles at the corner of her mouth. A smile that quickly disappeared as the woman staggered to her feet.

"You," the woman said, wiping a spot of blood from her busted lip. "Will pay for that."

"I look forward to it," Gamora said, tone deadly and teeth bared as she raised her knife.

"No, wait – look, this is just a misunderstanding-" Peter sputtered, trying once again in vain to salvage the situation. "If you took the time to talk it out I think you'd find we've got really similar motives-"

"The only misunderstanding here is your assumption that the Aether is yours for the taking," the woman hissed. "I am not about to gamble the fate of the galaxy on the words of an imposter and the daughter of a murderer."

Gamora glared daggers at the girl as Peter frowned.

"Imposter – what?"

"I am no daughter of Thanos," Gamora growled. "And I grow tired of your stupidity." With that she raised her knife, preparing to charge the woman as she, in turn, raised her sword.

It would have likely dissolved into a considerably deadly fight had not, at that moment, the windows exploded, glass shattering as a horde of dark figures swung into the hall.

The ensuing battles between mercenaries, Spartax forces, and Guardians all stuttered to a halt as the figures rose, revealing themselves to be Chitauri warriors.

From behind them a tall, Badoon male strode into the room, face lifted in the smallest of smirks.

"R'narin," the dark-haired woman breathed, eyes wide with horror.

"Well now, this is a fine mess," the man said, eyes scanning the occupants of the hall. He jerked his head at the Chitauri.

"Attack."


	6. Chapter 5

**Hehe... so I did not mean to go that long without updating AT ALL. I kinda got caught up in school and then procrastination and Netflix and all these other fics and yeah I'M SORRY T-T. And this isn't even that good of a chapter to offer you I've failed this story is going out of control. But it is longer? Hehe?**

**I'll try to update more frequently, but in the meantime I should be posting other fics to compensate! **

**(Also thank you so much to everyone who followed/favorited/REVIEWED you guys are the best!)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The change that swept the room was drastic. All over the room, mercenaries, Spartoi, and Guardians alike turned from fighting each other to defend frantically against the attacking hordes of Chitauri as they swept the room, screams and the piercing crack of blaster fire echoing through the room.

Standing behind Gamora, Peter wasted no time. Taking advantage of the Spartax woman's distracted horror, he grabbed Gamora, pulling her with him as he took off into the chaos.

"Wait, stop!" the woman cried, turning around sharply. She moved to pursue them, only to be cut off by a snarling Chitauri warrior. Peter could just hear the Chitauri's shriek of pain as the woman's sword found its mark.

"Shit," he muttered, pulling Gamora faster as they sprinted away, desperately weaving through the crowds. They had nearly reached one of the exits when a Chitauri charged them, weapon raised. "Shit!"

Fast as lightning, Gamora swept her knife up to meet the Chitauri's spear, metal screeching on metal with a pealing burst. Forcing his arm up, she kicked him squarely in the middle, knife catching him in the throat as he fell. Behind her, Peter blocked another Chitauri's attack with his blaster, shoving the warrior away hard and blasting him. Spinning around, he continued to fire into the crowd, back to Gamora as enemy after enemy went down with a burst of energized light. Behind him, he could hear Gamora's even breathing as she parried with the Chitauris' energized spears, taking them down with the neat efficiency she'd been taught all her life. Peter felt a small burst of pride at how well they fought together.

The burst of pride quickly faded into growing panic as he scanned the room between blaster shots, eyes darting the crowds wildly in search of Rocket. He was pretty sure he could hear the raccoon off to the left, his voice challenging as the sound of high-pressure blaster fire erupted in its wake, but being separated from his teammate - his friend, one of the few he had that he'd promised to protect – wasn't a good situation for him.

In addition to that, there was the increasingly obvious fact that they could not hope to win this fight. The Spartax guards and mercenaries were putting up a decent fight against the Chitauri, but the hordes of warrior beings were steadily overwhelming the opposing forces. Not that they could trust either the mercenaries or the Spartax guards not to kill them either.

And then there lay the final fact that clutched in his arm, growing hotter and thrumming with an all-too uncomfortable sense of power, was the source of the fight – the Aether, bright red and drawing far too many people's attention. Damn Infinity Gems.

He was going to the Collector when they finished this.

"Peter!" Gamora yelled from behind him, obviously having noticed the increasing flow of Chitauri attacking them. "We need to get out of here!"

"I know, I know!" he yelled back, grunting as he kicked at a Chitauri, stumbling back against Gamora as he blasted the warrior. "Where's Rocket?!"

"Here, you d'ast idiots!" Peter felt a surge of relief as he caught sight of the raccoon, darting between the fighting crowds until he reached them, clambering up onto Peter's shoulder. The familiar click-whir of Rocket's blaster hummed beside Peter's ear as a barrage of blaster fire took out the wave of Chitauri in front of him.

"Thanks," he gasped, shifting the Aether in his grasp.

"Yeah, yeah, thank me when we get out of here," Rocket growled. He shifted his arm, wincing.

"Are you okay?"Peter asked, eyes focused on his enemies but tone concerned.

"I'm fine," Rocket said shortly. Peter cut him a glance. He could just see the faint staining of crimson forming at his shoulder.

"Like hell you are," he said, worried. "What happened to your shoulder?"

"It's nothin'," Rocket said. "Was bein' stupid and got nicked. We can treat it later."

"Rocket-"

"_Later_," Rocket growled. "We need to get out of here with that thing before we're all slaughtered. That thing is drawing people towards us like a damn beacon."

"We're working on it," Gamora said, slowly clearing a path for them as they moved towards the exit.

"Yeah, well work faster," Rocket said. "That crazy Spartax lady and big ugly Badoon freak look like they're heading our way."

Glancing to the side, Peter stifled a curse. Sure enough, the dark-haired Spartax leader was approaching them from one side, and the Chitauri's leader from another. Gamora hissed, yanking her knife out of a Chitauri.

"We make for the door," she said. "Now."

"Right, right," Peter said, wincing as Rocket's claws dug into his neck, gripping him tightly as he took off into a sprint behind Gamora, ducking and shooting as they went.

Peter thought they were doing pretty well, right up until a stun bolt hit him squarely between the shoulders.

He went down with a strangled scream, limbs twitching uncontrollably as the Aether flew out of his grasp, smashing into the floor with a splintering crack and tumbling into the fray. Between the painful flashes in his vision, he caught sight of the Spartax leader, blaster just lowering as she charged towards them.

"Damn it, Peter, don't clench up!" Rocket's panicked yell sounded from besides his ear. Peter went limp, involuntarily shuddering as the energy ran its course, fighting against the encroaching blackness at the edge of his vision.

Rocket cursed, adjusting his blaster as he fired viciously at the Spartax woman. The woman gave a cry of surprise as blaster fire nicked her in the arm, forcing her to throw herself to the side to take cover amongst the crowds of people fighting. If she was hoping other people would protect her, she was wrong – Rocket continued the relentless barrage of blaster fire, forcing her back.

As the painful effects of the stun bolt faded, Peter felt Gamora pull him to his feet, his vision blurring as his head throbbed.

"Fight it, Peter, come on," she said, voice low in his ear as she supported him. "Not now – please, not now-"

Peter bit his lip, dragging himself out of the darkness pulling at the edges of his consciousness.

"I'm good, I'm, good," he gasped, stepping back from her to demonstrate. "But – the Aether!" Gamora's eyes widened, and she whipped around, sharp eyes darting around the chaos.

"There," she said, eyes narrowing on the red glow several feet away, laying at the feet of a mercenary in battle with a Chitauri. Peter followed her gaze, then swore. Barely ten feet away and approaching quickly was the Badoon leader, eyes fixed on the Aether as he cut through the crowds.

"I've got him," Gamora said coolly, glaring at the leader as she stood, grip tightening on her knife. Before either Peter or Rocket could say a word, she charged forward, meeting the Badoon leader just in time to clash her knife against his sword's downward swing.

"No, Gam-" Peter muttered, moving to help her. Rocket lashed out to grab his arm, jerking him back.

"She doesn't need your help, idiot!" he yelled. "Aether! Now!"

Peter cast one desperate look at Gamora as she battled the Badoon, blades flashing in deadly accuracy. Groaning in agitation, he turned to Rocket, expression pained.

"You're right, you're right, let's go."

Turning back to the battling mercenary and Chitauri warrior, Peter surged forwards, Rocket darting in front of him. Energized spear swinging in a deadly arc, the Chitauri finally sent the mercenary crumpling to the ground, grinning savagely as he bent down towards the Aether.

"Hands off, ugly!" The Chitauri shrieked as Rocket leapt onto his shoulders, firing directly into the back of his skull. The Chitauri collapsed as Rocket jumped down, grabbing the Aether.

"Got it!" he yelled, turning to Peter.

"Okay, let's go!" Peter yelled, gesturing at Rocket to throw him the container.

"Watch out, this thing is one bump away from shattering!" Rocket yelled, preparing to throw the Aether. However, before he could throw the battered container to Peter, Gamora gave a pained cry, causing both Peter and Rocket to turn to her - just to see her stumble back, a light flow of blood running down her arm from where the Badoon had caught her.

Distracted by Gamora's plight, both Peter and Rocket missed the Spartax leader a she raised her blaster once again.

It happened in an instant. Rocket gave a cry of panic as blaster fire slammed near his hand, knocking the cracked container from his hand and shattering it open. The container fell as if in slow motion, the glowing crimson seeping out through the sides, arcing through the air as Peter dove forwards to catch it.

Peter heard Rocket's panicked warning just as his hands closed around the container, all efforts to avoid the red substance filtering out of the shattered container in vain. He braced himself for the horrific agony as his fingers met the crimson of the Infinity Stone.

It never came. Instead, the Aether surged towards him like a glowing red liquid, snaking up his arm as his very veins lit up, dark red. Peter had time only to give a sharp gasp of surprise before his vision flashed scarlet, a roaring sounding in his ears as the Aether flooded him.

Then everything faded to black.

* * *

The battle between Gamora and the Badoon ground to a halt as they both spun around at Rocket's cry, eyes widening as they watched the Aether absorbed into Peter, the half Terran giving only a small gasp before he crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.

Gamora's heart stopped.

"_Peter!"_ she screamed, abandoning the Badoon leader as she flew to his side, hands darting over him in panic. "Wake up, wake up, Peter-"

"Gamora!" Rocket yelled from behind her, barely holding off the Badoon with his blaster fire. "Gamora, we need to go_ now_!"

Breathing harshly, Gamora nodded, crushing her fear as best she could as she slung Peter over her shoulders, grabbing his blaster and firing at the approaching Spartax leader.

With a shout of warning, Rocket threw the last flash bomb, the air echoing with cries as the blinding flash illuminated the room. Gamora and Rocket sprinted forwards, darting between the crowds of blinded people and out into the entrance hall. The angered roar of the Badoon leader echoed behind them as they sprinted into the warm night air, disappearing into the crowds of people swarming the streets, either running away or running to help.

"Groot!" Rocket yelled into his com unit. "Drax! Where are you?!" After an awful moment of crackling silence, Drax's voice finally filtered through.

"The landing bay, Dock 23 C," Drax's voice said, sounding concerned. "But Rocket-"

"Save it for later!" Rocket yelled, forcing his way through the pedestrians. Gamora followed close behind, Peter unconscious on her back. "Fire up the engines, we'll be there in a minute!"

Before Drax could get in another word, Rocket cut the connection, trading the com unit for his gun.

"23 C, let's go," he muttered, throwing a glance behind them as they ran. Their pursuers were, for now, blessedly out of sight. "How's Peter?"

"I don't know," Gamora said, voice tight and expression hard as she stumbled slightly from his weight. "Rocket, I don't know."

Rocket swore, fingers clenching around his gun, continuing to sprint towards the landing bay.

Weaving in and out through the screaming crowds, it took what felt like an eternity for them to reach the _Milano_. By the time the orange and blue ship came into view Gamora nearly wept in relief, her arms burning as she struggled to keep up the quick pace with Peter's limp weight on her back. The only relief she found was in the small, near-imperceptible breaths she felt against the back of her neck – proof that Peter was, for now, still alive.

She absolutely could not afford the growing anxiety as she realized she had little idea what was actually wrong with him – other than the stone of mass destruction that had been _absorbed into his krutacking bloodstream_-

Not now. Not with the threat they were dealing with.

"DRAX!" Rocket roared as they reached the _Milano_, quickly making for the entrance. "Groot! Get this d'ast thing fired up! We need to leave _now_!"

"I am Groot!"

"Thank the stars, you have returned," Drax said as Rocket darted in through the entrance first. "There were a concerning amount of Chitauri roaming the streets. We feared-" he paused as he caught sight of Gamora pulling Peter's unconscious form through the entrance.

"What happened?" he asked, forehead creasing in concern. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know, Gamora doesn't know, the galaxy doesn't frickin' know," Rocket bit out harshly, making for the flight deck.

"I am Groot?" Groot moved forward, eyes wide.

"We don't have time for that now, let's frickin' go!" with that remark Rocket clambered up the ladder. Drax's eyes widened, and he moved after Rocket.

"Rocket – no, wait-"

"Can you wait 'til we're outta here, we've got a horde of d'ast Chitauri on our heels -"

"Rocket, we cannot-"

"-so unless you wanna pick a fight with them, be my guest-"

"The ship-"

"I'm workin' on it, I-" Rocket frowned as the usual whir of the Milano's engine failed to stutter to life. His fingers flew over the controls, pulling up readings. "What the hell-"

"That is what I've been trying to tell you!" Drax exploded. "The ship is dead!"

"What?!" Gamora called from below, leaving Peter on the bunk as she threw herself up the ladder.

"There is something wrong with the ship," Drax informed her.

"No, no, no – _no_!" Rocket cried in frustration, smashing the control panel. "Dammit- not _now_!"

"Rocket?!"

"Shit – shit, the engine must've given out – dammit, how the hell did this happen?!"

"Rocket!" Gamora finally yelled at him, cutting off his cursing. "Rocket. Can we get anywhere in this ship. Anywhere at all."

"No," Rocket bit out. "She's not goin' anywhere." Gamora squeezed her eyes closed, hands clenching in her hair as if to rip it out.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay. Grab what you can and lock down the ship – we're leaving."

"What? Where?" Drax asked, looking at her in surprise. Groot echoed his confusion with a mournful "_I am Groot?"_

"Anywhere but here," Gamora snapped, jumping down the ladder.

Moving quickly to her bunk, she yanked off her dress, changing into her standard battle gear. Grabbing a bag from the corner of her room, she began tossed her weapons in haphazardly, moving out into the common area. She found the rest of her teammates doing the same, quickly gathering what they could – she was mildly impressed to see them nailing the basic necessities.

"Grab the medkit, will ya?" Rocket called to her as he clambered back up the ladder. "I'm gonna lock her down."

Gamora nodded, throwing the slim case into her bag. Hurrying through the ship, she made her way to Peter's bunk. Groot was seated next to him, eyes creased in concern.

"I am Groot."

Gamora shook her head.

"Come on, Peter," she whispered, grabbing his wrist and feeling the steady pulse, reassuring herself. "We need you."

She bit her lip when she received no response. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Groot.

"Is there any way you can carry him without calling attention to us?"

"I will help with that," Drax said as he stepped into the room, knife at his belt as he clutched his bag. Hauling Peter up, he looped one arm around his shoulder, gesturing for Groot to do the same.

"Drunk," he explained. Gamora shrugged.

"With him, it wouldn't be a surprise." As long as they appeared normal – well, normal enough.

"Alright, people, we need to blow this place," Rocket said, sliding down the flight deck's ladder. "Ship's set to lockdown."

"You have your things?"

"Yup," Rocket said, holding up the small bag. "Even if the Chitauri catch us, we'll be able to go out with a bang – and everything else in a five mile radius."

"Sounds great," Gamora said flatly. Rummaging through Peter's room, she quickly gathered what essentials she could. Finally, she carefully placed his Walkman and headphones into her own bag.

"Okay," she said, looking at the others. "Let's go."

* * *

Adjusting her sword, Victoria of Spartax swore. In a matter of seconds, a simple undercover retrieval had turned into a bloody, all-out battle – one that could very well spell war for her people, given the nature of the attackers.

"M'lady!"

Yanking her sword out of the nearest Chitauri warrior, Victoria spun to face her second in command.

"The Aether," he gasped, his own weapon dripping with Chitauri blood. "They're gone - with it."

"Of course they are" she hissed, scanning the chaotic room. "As if they'd stick around after that – curse him, that wasn't supposed to happen!"

She'd seen the Aether absorbed into the Terran. It was impossible to miss. She had no idea how long his body could support the powerful substance – she'd heard stories, but no conclusions had ever been proved – but that hardly mattered. What mattered was that R'narin had seen it as well – and that the Aether had escaped their reach.

At least it wasn't in his hands.

"We need to go," she said, grunting as she parried a strike. "Alert the men – we're leaving."

"And the Aether?"

"I'll worry about that when my men are safe," she snapped. Regroup and get to safety – they could track down the Guardians soon enough.

Her second in command nodded, barking out orders to the remaining Spartax soldiers. She could just hear the sounds of them regrouping when R'narin's harsh voice cut through the air.

"Leaving so soon, Captain?"

The name was spoken with derision, and the Badoon general's eyes glittering with malice as he approached her.

"R'narin," she spat, raising her sword. "Last I'd heard, you were slinking off to your banishment."

"A mistake my people will soon come to regret," he said, lip curling as he circled her. "But not nearly as much as your filthy empire."

"Our 'filthy empire' is more than capable of crushing whatever you throw at us, R'narin, as we always have," she returned, eyes calculating as they circled each other.

"Really," R'narin said, tone sly. "So your king has not fallen to such desperation now that he seeks the power of an Infinity Stone?"

"Our king is hardly desperate," Victoria glared. "He is-"

"On his throne, cowering behind the safety of his people, while he sends his own child to do his dirty work."

"You dare-"

"Ah, excuse me," R'narin smirked. "Adopted child."

Victoria merely glared.

"I fail to see how any of this is important," she snapped. "And you talk too much."

She charged forward, sword swinging up in a deadly trajectory. R'narin met it with his own, the metallic peal of the two weapons clashing ringing harshly. Countering his blows, Victoria moved steadily back. She was by no means a poor fighter – quite the opposite, in fact, to have reached her status – but R'narin had years of experience and a savage ruthlessness she could not hope to stand against for long.

Not here, at any rate.

A downwards strike missed her head by inches, the sharp whistling ringing in her ears as her heart jumped. Sparing another glance behind her, she just caught sight of her men fighting their way to the door. Time to go.

Glaring at R'narin, she reached to her belt.

"This isn't over," she hissed at him. R'narin's eyes widened as she removed the device, springing forward as she switched it on.

A high pitched blast rent the air as a thick cloud of smoke erupted in R'narin's face, obscuring his view. The general coughed harshly, blinking back the instinctive tears from the smoke. When his vision finally cleared, he swore. The Spartax detail was gone.

* * *

Gamora walked swiftly through the crowded streets, the rest of the Guardians not far behind. The city was, predictably, in an uproar. The people around them were either hurrying back and forth or yelling in heated, angry voices. They had yet to see any sign of the Chitauri, but Gamora had little doubt that safety would last, especially if the angry conversations were anything to go by. The minute they discovered the Aether was gone, the warrior race would be hot in pursuit.

Glancing behind her, she locked eyes with Drax, his face caught in the same on-edge expression of tension she was sure hers was. Glancing to his side, she stared at Peter, eyes still closed and slumped in unconsciousness. Her throat tightened.

Pushing her fear away for the moment, she turned her attention back to the streets. They could walk for a while, but they would eventually need somewhere to hide, to plan their next move and recover the best they could. She cut Rocket a glance. The raccoon was resting wearily on Groot's shoulder, the clothing at his shoulder steadily growing darker.

"Rocket," she hissed, glaring at him. He returned her glare half-heartedly.

"What?"

"You need to put pressure on that!"

Rocket gave his shoulder a disparaging look, shrugging.

"It's not that bad."

"_Rocket."_

"Fine, fine." Tearing off the edge of his jacket, Rocket pressed at his shoulder, face contorting in a wince. Gamora resisted the urge to swear.

Make that another reason they needed to stop somewhere.

"Gamora," Drax said, voice low. "Where are we going?"

"I'm open to suggestions," she muttered, eyes darting across the city's buildings.

"There's a hotel there, I believe."

"They'll be expecting that," she snapped. "They'll be searching everywhere, there's basically nowhere – I don't know –"

"I am Groot." Groot's hand rested gently on her shoulder, cutting off her increasingly frantic ramblings. Gamora took a deep breath.

"Alright," she breathed. "Okay. They'll be expecting us to go somewhere safe, somewhere smart." She bit her lip, gazing at the bright lights of a hospital. "Then we go somewhere stupid."

The others merely looked at her, faces apprehensive.

"And how are getting' in, exactly?" Rocket drawled. Gamora turned to him, pointedly looking at his shoulder.

"Oh."

* * *

The Lady Sif of Asgard was in a bit of a predicament.

Granted, this mess wasn't exactly her fault – she and Volstagg could hardly be blamed for Taneleer Tivan's failure, unexpected as it was. It had been necessary, separating the two Infinity Stones, and as far as had been concerned, there was no safer place in the galaxy than under the Collector's watch.

Apparently not anymore, however. At least where Infinity Stones were concerned. Two were concerning enough – but the news of a third only made things more concerning. Thanos was growing bold.

Sif bit her lip. It was useless to worry about such things now, not when she and Volstagg had such a pressing issue to deal with. The loss of the Aether was a crippling blow. And if Thanos got to the stone before them- Sif shuddered.

"Blast him," Volstagg cursed from the controls of their ship, guiding them away from the eerie lights of Knowhere. "He should have called us immediately. Not these… Guardians."

"Apparently, they contained a first stone well enough," Sif replied crisply. "Let us hope their character remains as true with the Aether."

"Let's hope their strength does, too," Volstagg muttered. "From what we've heard, they'll have plenty of trouble coming their way."

"Which is why we must find them as quickly as possible," Sif said, staring at the ship's readouts.

"And you're sure you don't want to inform the Allfather?" Volstagg questioned. Sif's hands tightened.

"You know well enough my suspicions," she said darkly. "There is something…off… in Asgard." She shook her head. "No, we keep this to ourselves. For now."

"Does that mean you've rethought your plan?" Volstagg asked hopefully,

"No," Sif bit out. "As I said before, this _particular_ detail is unavoidable." Volstagg groaned.

"Fine, fine," he muttered. "But you'd best make the call." Sif glared at him, but she was already reaching for the communication unit.

"Let us hope our relations with the Spartax Empire have improved since last time," she muttered as she opened the call. Volstagg held his breath as the holographic screen shimmered into existence, the Spartax guard screen appearing. Sif cleared her throat.

"Lady Sif, Shield-Maiden of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms, requesting audience with his Imperial Highness, J'son of Spartax." She paused. "I wish to speak with him on matters concerning the gems. It will be in his best interest to answer."

A beat of silence passed before a cool, female voice replied.

"His Imperial Highness will answer you shortly, Lady Sif."

Sif stifled the urge to groan.

"Nicely said."

"Oh, would you be silent for once-"

"Lady Sif."

"_Oh _- King J'son," Sif said hurriedly, turning to the screen with a bow of respect. "I thank you for honoring my request."

Volstagg edged back slightly as the Spartax royal appeared in full. With his copper colored hair and lightly tanned skin, he appeared human enough. But the piercing, luminescent blue eyes of J'son of Spartax were only one of the signs that the man was anything but. On closer look, his skin seemed to glow with a faint light, the air about him thick with an unearthly presence. With his intense gaze, it was small wonder many people found him terrifying.

"Enough with the pleasantries," he said coolly, fixing Sif with his stare. "You claimed to have news of the Infinity Stones?"

"Of one, in particular," Sif replied, tone matching his in its coolness. "The Aether. Though I'm sure you know enough about it by now."

The king's lip curled.

"You were foolish to put your faith in the Collector," he said. Sif felt a flare of anger.

"Until recently, his collection was the safest place in the galaxy. We had no reason to doubt." She said fiercely. "And that is not of near great importance as the issue at hand is, your majesty. There is an Infinity Stone loose in the galaxy, free for Thanos' taking."

"I admire your concern, Lady Sif," J'son said, unperturbed. "But my guards are taking care of the issue as we speak. You need not worry."

"Begging your pardon, your majesty, but are your guards prepared to take on both the Collector's emissaries and a legion of Chitauri warriors led by one of your enemy, the exiled Badoon general?" Sif bit out.

A flash on emotion crossed J'son's face, and Sif repressed a smirk.

"I see your sources have failed to inform you on this point."

"I know of R'narin's deceit. But that Thanos would sink so low as to ally himself with him…" J'son lips tightened. "Perhaps I have… underestimated…. the situation at hand."

"Which is why we seek an alliance," Sif implored. "We must retrieve the Aether before R'narin gets his hands on it."

"Very well," J'son replied after a pause. "A temporary alliance may be in order." Sif inclined her head in thanks.

"The recent battle with Malekith has left our troops considerably weakened, but I can gather a unit of our warriors in three days time," Sif said. "We will take what measures necessary to secure the Aether."

"I will send another force to aid in my Captain's efforts against the Chitauri," J'son added. "Our combined forces should prove enough to hold off R'narin until the Aether is safe on Spartax."

"We can discuss terms of ownership later," Sif bit out. "Our priority is securing it from Thanos."

J'son nodded, though Sif didn't like the gleam in his eyes.

"And what of these Guardians? Do they present a threat?"

"Not necessarily," Sif replied thoughtfully. "According to reports, they seem to have primarily benevolent motives. Likely they are simply acting on a job."

"Benevolent motives or not, it would be unwise to trust them with the stone for much longer," J'son said sharply. "Who, exactly, are we dealing with?"

"A very… eclectic group of people," Sif sighed. "The most concerning is the assassin Gamora – Thanos' daughter, though she seems to refute that title now."

J'son frowned.

"I had heard of her treachery. The reality of such a claim remains to be seen."

"I believe she has proven her loyalties," Sif said stiffly. "Reports do say she helped save Xandar."

"Reports," J'son said skeptically. "Are not always fact. If she has truly betrayed her father, then she will have little issue with surrendering the Aether."

"Issue with you, I wouldn't blame her," Volstagg muttered from off screen. Sif whacked him sharply in the knee. J'son continued, oblivious.

"And the others?"

"Drax the Destroyer, lesser known but no less dangerous, his motives seem sound enough," Sif continued. "A Flora Colossus and a genetically modified experiment – with Terran origins, I believe. And a former Ravager who calls himself Star-lord."

"Star-lord?" J'son's eyes narrowed.

"I doubt it's a purposeful reference," Sif assured. "He's not from here – a Terran named Peter Quill, I believe."

J'son jerked, eyes widening. Sif raised an eyebrow.

"Quill," J'son muttered slowly, clearly shaken. Sif exchanged a glance with Volstagg. Rattling the great J'son of Spartax's composure twice in one sitting was unheard of, if not impossible. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Sif said slowly. "Is that-"

"None of your concern," J'son cut her off abruptly. "A coincidence. I will contact you as soon as my troops are in position. Inform Asgard of my thanks."

And with that the holoscreen cut off, leaving Sif in Volstagg in a stunned silence.

"Well that was odd," Volstagg remarked. Sif frowned.

"That was uncharacteristic," she muttered. "What has him so upset?"

"Besides the whole Aether disaster?" Sif rolled her eyes.

"Obviously," she huffed. "But when I mentioned Quill…" she shook her head.

"Never mind. We need to move."

"As you command, m'lady" Volstagg muttered, guiding the ship into the stars.


End file.
